


No Sleep Till Libertalia

by biggerthanbundy



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Flashbacks, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-02-17 04:22:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13069044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggerthanbundy/pseuds/biggerthanbundy
Summary: 15 years after his untimely "death", Samuel Drake enlists the help of his brother Nathan, the veteran treasure hunter Victor Sullivan, and Amelia, a woman who proved to be both his best friend and the one girl he couldn't seem to forget.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a retelling of the Drake brother's journey in The Theif's End, with the addition of my OC Amelia. She and the Drake brothers had become friends in their youth and were working together to find Avery's treasure before Sam's untimely "death". Now, 15 years later, they all work together to finally find the famous loot, and must also confront their past. A lot of the story will follow the game, but there'll also be changes made to fit the direction I'm going in (though not entirely sure what direction that is yet, so bare with me.) 
> 
> Eventual Sam/Amelia; this is definitely going to be a slow burn. 
> 
> Obviously, I own no part of The Uncharted Franchise!!! 
> 
> And yes, the title is a play off No Sleep Till Brooklyn by The Beastie Boys cause I feel like Sam really fuckin loved those guys. (I'm horrible with titles)

Victor Sullivan finds himself in a rare moment of respite, a newspaper sprawled out in front of him and a cigar hanging from his lips. In the background, his ears, though not as good as they once were (he’ll never admit that), pick up on a dreamy jazz tune that plays somewhere in the vicinity of this apartment. It’s one he’s heard thousands of times, yet he’s unable to remember it’s name, only the familiar warmth it’s tunes elicits in his chest. 

Behind him, groggy footsteps enter the kitchen, and unlike the elusive title of the song, he recognizes the owner of these sounds immediately: Amelia. He turns around to take a glance at his companion, whose disheveled appearance causes a smile to break out on his face. Though, she doesn’t acknowledge Victor’s presence and instead goes directly to the pot of coffee, pouring herself a heaping cup. 

“Rough night?” He asks, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face as he directs his attention back to the paper. 

She musters a grunt and comes to sit across from him at the table, immediately bringing the black liquid to her lips. After a few moments, he places the newspaper down on the table indefinitely, looking at his partner who now clutches the side of her temples with both hands, her eyes closed shut. 

“So kid, you gonna keep me in suspense-“ 

“Victor, how many times do we have to go over this? No business before coffee.” 

“Right, sorry.” He smiles again, ashing his cigar and crossing his arms to rest against his chest. “You trying to telepathically drink your coffee? Cause I’m pretty sure you gotta actually pick the cup up to-“

“You’re worse than a five year old, you know that?” She tries to pretend she’s annoyed, but the smile playing at her lips betrays her. She then removes her hands from her head and picks up her cup, taking a long, hard swig of the dark liquid. 

He quips, “I’ll have you know most people find me incredibly charming.”

“Yeah, well most people aren’t stuck with your ass as much as I am.” 

“Good point.” He pauses, taking a drag of his cigar as he pretends to patiently wait for Amelia to be ready. 

“You know, staring at me like that isn’t going to help me drink my coffee any faster.” 

“Sorry, Doll. Can’t help it. You’re just so darn pretty in the mornin’.” 

She rolls her eyes, “bite me.” And lifts the cup to her lips again. 

At this he chuckles, “Can you at least humor me a little? I mean, did Magnus have any leads or was he just pullin’ our legs?” 

She then looks up at him, “Can’t a girl get two seconds to herself, huh?” but in seeing his face she realizes her attempts at a quiet morning were futile: once Sully had his mind set on something it was damn near impossible to get him to change it. Unfortunately for Amelia, this morning he just so happened to be dead set on ignoring their morning rules and getting answers. She sighs, “Surprisingly, your boy came through. Looks like we’re going to Portugal after all.” 

His face lights up at this, “Well I’ll be damned. I knew that asshole would come in handy one day.” 

“Now, for the love of god, can I please enjoy the rest of my coffee in peace?” She looks up at him, pleadingly. 

“No promises, Doll, but I’ll do my best.” 

She snorts, shaking her head, “Why doesn’t that comfort me at all.” 

* * *

With the sun just beginning to rise, the air in New Orleans is still crisp, a hue of deep purples beginning to clash with the blackness of the night sky. The office at Jameson’s Marine is quiet, and it’s these mornings of peace and stillness that Nathan Drake cherishes. He sits in his office alone, going over the tedious paperwork for the day. Though, suddenly, a knock on his office door interrupts his ritual. 

“We’re not open yet,” he calls, not emerging from his desk. 

Again, the knock sounds, though this time it lasts a bit longer. 

Exasperated, he glances up from his papers, his tone getting slightly more insistent, “We’re closed.” 

Though, the patron on the other side of the door is even more insistent and knocks for a third time. 

“Come on, man” he breathes to himself, getting up from his desk finally, “alright, alright, I’m coming.” 

Nathan then opens the door, his eyes being meet with the back of denim-jacket clad man, “Can I help you?” 

“Yeah, I’m uh, looking for my little brother, “ the man turns to face Nathan now, “He’s about your height, a bit leaner, definitely less gray in the temples.”  
At this, Nathan’s eyes grow wide as he takes in the man that stands before him, “Sam?” He breathes in disbelief, his stance wavering. 

“It’s good to see you again, Nathan.”

Sam. Nathan’s Brother. His dead brother. The brother who was shot right before his eyes, who had bled to death in a Panama Prison. He had packed away this memory and all memories of Sam in the deep recesses of his mind, the recollection of Sam being too painful to even glance at, let alone speak aloud. And now, 15 years later, he stands in front of Nathan not dead, but alive. 

Without hesitation, Nathan jumps into Sam’s arms, embracing him in a hard hug. Questions begin flying out of the younger brother’s mouth, and Sam lifts his shirt to show the scars that remain from the gun wounds. 

“The doctors-‘doctors’, patched me up and threw me right back in the cell,” The older brother explains as he walks around the office, taking in his surroundings. 

“Jesus, Sam, if I would’ve known, I swear I would’ve-“

“You would’ve came back, I know that. But that’s not what matters, alright? What matters is that I’m out now.” 

The younger brother stumbles backwards, placing a hand on the wall beside him to balance himself. Sam snaps his fingers at Nathan, “Hey, hey you still with me?” 

“Yeah, I just-need some fresh air.” 

Nathan then goes to step out onto the dock, Sam following closely behind him. 

“Woah, you’re not gonna pass out on me, are ya?” 

Natahan’s voice is uneasy, “I just might. It’s a lot to digest, you know?” 

Sam lights a cigarette, and while taking a drag, Nathan begins questioning him again. Though, Sam quickly diverts the conversation (a skill he uses often in life), leading Nathan to a bench where both of them take a seat. 

The boys begin talking well into the morning, Nathan delving into his tales about all of the adventures Sam had missed out on. Starting with the coffin of Sir Francis Drake, Nathan describes every happening of the past fifteen years in perfect detail, Sam taking everything in with delight and also a hint of sadness, of regret, and though he would never admit this, even jealousy. 

Often, as she had been such a giant part of Nathan’s adventures (and as Nathan assumed Sam was painfully curious about her), He would delve into Mia and his experiences, how they’d both taken turns saving each other’s asses and how she’d continued her work in the antiquities field and was now Sully’s assistant/roommate. 

Sam smiles to himself, “So, Victor and Mia.” 

“You should see those too, man. Like two peas in a pod.” 

“I believe it.” He pauses, “It’s just-“ 

“What?” Nathan turns to him, generally curious. 

“She never, uh, settled down or nothin’, huh?” He rubs his neck anxiously, looking at the water, and Nathan smiles at this. 

“Nah. She’s a bit of a workaholic,” he hesitates a moment, before a cheeky grin places itself on his face, “why you interested” 

“Shuddup,” Sam gives Nathan a playful shove, but his mind can’t help wander to her. Was she anything like he remembered, or had his memory simply romanticized her into this ethereal being completely separate from this actual reality…No. No that couldn’t be. If anything, his memory wasn’t doing her justice, especially with everything Nathan’s just told him about her. A part of him, the naive part, assumed she’d be the same as she was, and yet now he knows that this idea is completely and utterly wrong, and this makes his insides turn: would she even want him around now? Would he even be good enough to be around her? 

Eventually, the conversation is brought back to him, and at this he finally stands from the bench and comes to stand at the edge of the dock, looking out into the water. As he talks about Hector Alcazar, he’s unable to look at his brother, his eyes instead staying glued onto the view in front of him. But this is not a new habit of Sam’s, and Nate recognizes this behavior immediately, a signal of his emotional discomfort: Sam was never good at fooling Nathan. Though Nathan is patient and listens intently, just as Sam had with his stories. 

But now Sam is asking him to throw away his promise to Elena, a promise he also made to himself to put to rest the chaos of treasure hunting to live a normal life like he’d always dreamt of. 

“I don’t trust Charlie or any one else in your contacts with my life, Nathan. I need you on this.” Sam argues, his eyes pleading with his younger brother. 

How could Nathan possibly say no to that?


	2. Two

“Sam’s _alive_? As in _our_ Samuel Drake?” Amelia paces wildly, while Sully sits in his lounge chair, his eyes following her incessant walking.

“I know, I didn’t believe it either.”

“Are you sure it isn’t some mistake? I mean-“

“Mia, come on. You think Nate wouldn’t know his own brother?”

She stops, plopping down on the couch opposite of him, “holy shit.”

“My sentiments exactly.”

The two sit in silence for several moments, Sully watching her carefully as if waiting for a bomb to go off. Though it doesn’t, and this makes him even more uneasy.

He then lights a cigar as he gets up from his chair and wordlessly pours two glasses of scotch, handing one to Mia and taking one for himself. This time, though, he sits beside her, and by the time he does, the brown liquid in her glass is already gone and now burns the inside of her chest.

Sam was alive. _Alive_. Her brain runs this sentence on a loop as if it were fact checking its truthfulness. As if somehow Nate was wrong and this was some elaborate, albeit fucked up, prank. But this she knows isn’t practical, and yet, it’s easier for her to believe that than the actual truth. The truth that Sam, Samuel Drake, _her Sammy_ , hadn’t been dead the last fifteen years, but was alive. A floodgate in her mind shatters at this realization and the memories begin to flood her brain- that crooked smile, his perpetually bruised knuckles, the smell of his coat (cigarettes and cheap beer), of nights spent drunkenly singing The Beastie Boys, times they’d stayed up way past sunrise just talking about nothing and everything at the same time,….Samuel Drake was alive. Fucking alive in a prison in Panama all this time…. And oh god. _Prison. Sam was fucking trapped there and we didn’t even-_

“You okay, kid?” The sound of Sully’s voice brings her back to the present, and she musters a nod, though it isn’t quite convincing.

She turns to Sully, “I need another drink.”

* * *

Nathan and Sam stand on the outskirts of the Rossi Estate, both dressed in mechanic jumpsuits that protect their tuxedos underneath. The oldest brother perches himself on a ledge and looks out at the expansive property through a pair of binoculars.

“You sure they’re comin’?” Sam asks, his voice attempting to sound cool and unbothered, though Nathan picks up on the slight uneasiness in his tone.

“Give em’ time, Sam, They’ll be here.”

“I’m just sayin’. We should at least consider the possibility that-“

As if on queue, Sam is interrupted by a series of bright flashes that come from an upstairs window of the estate, signaling to the boys that Victor and Mia were now safe inside and patiently awaiting the boys to climb up.

Nathan turns to his brother, a shit-eating grin across his face, “See, what’d I tell you?”

Sam rolls his eyes, though he can’t help but feel relief wash over him. And then as soon as this calm comes, it’s gone, and suddenly he’s aware of a brick-like weight in his stomach.

* * *  
15 years earlier

With the time until their incarceration ticking down to just a measly 12 hours, the boys had decided to venture out and celebrate, packing in all of the sex and booze they possibly could in an attempt to make their transition to inmates a bit easier. Rafe, being the rich playboy that he was, had arranged an elaborate night with only the best of the best for the crew, though Mia elects to stay at the home Rafe had rented for their travels instead.

She would never admit it to them, but she was horribly nervous about their departure. The entire plan had never sat right with her, but with the Drake boys quickly agreeing with Rafe, there was no way to convince them otherwise. But, God had she tried.

She sits in her room, papers scattered all around as her as the sounds of her stereo envelop the entire space. She attempts to do research, anything to keep her mind off the fact that the only two people she gave a damn about would soon be locked up in one of the most infamous prisons, away from her and helpless, but of course her stubborn head can think of nothing but the pandemonium of horrible situations the Drake brothers could get themselves into. And knowing them, she wasn’t too far off.

A knock sounds at her door, but she’s unable to hear it over the music, her eyes zoning out on an indistinct line of the paper she holds, her mind lost somewhere else. Again, the knock sounds and still she is unaware of it.

Without her realizing, Sam enters the room and leans against a nearby wall, a childlike grin appearing on his face as he watches Mia lost in thought. He then goes to approach her, slowly inching himself to her bed so as not to alarm her of his presence, which he does with ease being the skilled pickpocket that he is.

He then leans in right by her ear, “Readin’ anything good-“

Mia lets out a scream and instinctively swings her body around, her head colliding with Sam’s nose, “What the fuck, Sam!,”

His nose is gushing at this point, but that doesn’t stop him from hysterically laughing through the stream of blood that pours out of his face.

“Oh, Jesus Christ, come here you idiot,” She leads him to the bathroom and has him sit down on the toilet, gathering towels to hold against his nose. Still, he laughs, though Mia is anything but amused, and she furrows her eyebrows at him as she tires to tend to him. It becomes quite apparent that Sam is also intoxicated and utterly incapable of doing anything but holding his head back, leaving Mia to pinch the bridge of his nose with one hand as the other collects blood with an already soiled towel.

Drunkenly, his fingers trace patterns on the sides of her legs, but she swats them away “Sam, quit it.”

He tires to speak, but with her fingers tightly pinching the bridge of his nose, his words come out nasally and indistinct. Finally, this gets her to crack a smile.

“What was that?” She removes her hand and he brings his dead down to look at her.

“You’ve got a hard head, princess.”

“Not my fault you got the genius idea to sneak up on me,” she forces his head back up and immediately resumes applying pressure, but after a few moments he swats her hand away, taking the towel from her.

“I got it,” he slurs, attempting to stand from the toilet.

“Sam, come on, take it easy,” she goes to sit him back down but he resists.

“I’m fine, look,” he removes the towel from his nose, revealing a face covered in half-dried blood, “s’not bleeding any more,” he attempts to give her a charming smile, but his teeth, too, are coated in blood.

She shakes her head, half amused and half concerned “what the hell am I going to do with you?”

He shrugs, “Love me unconditionally?”

She rolls her eyes, “Clean yourself off, you look like a wreck.”

“Hey, I bet I don’t look-“ he turns around to view himself in the mirror, “oh, shit you’re right!” He then begins laughing at his own reflection, staring back at her through the mirror, “Makes me look kinda tough though, huh?”

“Oh yeah, reeaaaal tough,” She shakes her head, watching as he clumsily turns the sink on and attempts to stick his face under the water.

“Sam, jesus-“ She steps over to him, pulling him up and taking the towel from him.

“What, I was just cleanin’ up like you asked.” He goes to reach for the towel again, “Here, I can do it-“

“Just sit back down on the toilet before I give you another bloody nose,” She gives him a light shove and he does as he’s told, mock saluting her.

“Yes m’am.”

She waits several moments for the water to heat up to her satisfaction and then runs the towel underneath the faucet, Sam watching her intently all the while. She then walks over to him and stands in between his legs to wipe the blood from his face, and this time when his hands begin tracing her lower thighs she pretends not to notice.

He stares up at her, but she keeps her attention on cleaning him, her eyes never stopping to meet his. Once she’s satisfied, she steps away, “There. Now try not to do anything stupid for the rest of the night, okay? Cause next time I’m just going to let you bleed out.”

“You’re bluffin, sweetheart,” He stands, wavering a bit, and bops the tip of her nose with his finger.

She rolls her eyes, batting his hand away and attempting to look threatening, “yeah? Try me.”

“What’re you gonna do pip squeak, huh? Could ya even reach me?” He goes to ruffle her hair but she ducks out of the way, shoving his arm back to his side.

“Keep talkin’, Drake. Really. I’d love an excuse to add a black eye to your tab,” she walks out of the bathroom, heading to the stereo to turn down the music, and he quickly follows her.

“Besides, what are you doing here anyways? Shouldn’t you be-“

“Oh shit, I almost forgot,” he disappears out the room and within seconds he’s back, both his arms behind his back. “I brought ya something.”

She crosses her arms skeptically, “I swear if this is another one of your stupid-“

“Ta da!” he pulls out a very large bottle of champagne from behind his back, aping a terrible French accent, “Pour vous, M’lady.”

“Remind me to make fun of you in the morning for that,” she chuckles, walking over to him to take the bottle into her hands.

At inspecting the label, her eyes grow wide, “Sam, holy shit, where did you get this-“

“Rafe ordered a bunch, figured he wouldn’t miss one tiny lil bottle,” he smirks, “I did good, didn’t I?”

She huffs, still reading the fancy golden engraving on the bottle’s label, “this thing has gotta be worth well over 500$.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t bring it for ya to just look at, hand it over, Sweetheart” he grabs it from her and clumsily rips off the golden wrapping that encloses the top of the bottle. In one fluid motion, and before Mia can stop him, he bites down onto the cork and rips it out of the bottle with his mouth, a plume of foam spilling out onto the floor as a satisfying “POP” resonates throughout the room.

“Salut,” he cheers, the cork in his mouth muffling his speech, of which he quickly spits onto the ground. He then hands the bottle to her. “Ladies first.”

She shakes her head, a smile spreading across her face as she grabs it from him, taking an inappropriately long swing.

“Woah, there tiger. We’re supposed to be sharin this thing,” He laughs, reaching for the bottle, but she moves away from him.

“Hey, I saved your life earlier, I deserve this.”

“You’re the one that hit me!”

“Yeah, well, that’s your own damn fault, isn’t it?”

They smile at one another and she takes another few chugs, finally handing him the bottle.

The two then take a seat on the edge of the bed, a comfortable silence ensuing between them as they continue passing the bottle back and forth.

“You never answered my question earlier,” she plays with the fabric of the comforter.

“And what question would that be?”

“Why’d you leave the party to come here?”

“Ah, that question,” he mockingly furrows his eyebrows, nodding his head as if he was deep in thought.  
She gives him a light shove, taking the bottle from him, “Seriously though. I mean, from what I heard Rafe saying earlier, it sounded like a pretty killer night he had planned.”

He nods, grabbing for the bottle and taking a long swig, “Yeah, it was. S’just not how I wanted to spend my last night as a free man.”

“And this is?” She laughs, pointing to the blood on his shirt.

“Actually, the bloody nose was just a bonus,” again he takes a swig.

“Hey, look whose not sharing now,” she jests, taking the champagne back from him.

Once she brings the bottle to her lips, he speaks again, “I don’t know, it just seemed weird to me, bein there. And then Rafe started makin’ this whole speech about how we’d get to do all our favorite things in one night, and he started listin off all these things, you know, drinking, foolin around with girls-

“The essentials.”

He smirks, “yeah, right. But uh…I don’t know. When the toast was done and everyone was cheering, and slammin their glasses together, I kept looking for your face in the crowd, and I swear, at one point I even turned to say somethin’ to you and you weren’t there. And I don’t know…somehow the party didn’t seem that interesting anymore…. pretty fuckin’ corny, huh?”

She looks at him and he back at her. Maybe it was the alcohol taking control, or the dreamy music that now plays from the stereo, or maybe it was just the fact that they were already sitting so close to begin with, but Mia could swear that his eyes kept drifting from hers to her lips, that his figure was painfully inching itself closer and closer to herself, and _good god_ , she thinks, _he’s going to kiss me._

But, before the moment can progress, she turns her face from his and takes a swig of the champagne, finishing off the bottle, “Bad news: looks like we’re out of alcohol.”


	3. Three

Upstairs in the Rossi Estate, Mia and Victor await the arrival of the brothers who, per usual, were running late. She, dressed in satin navy trousers and a matching button up, paces around the large room, her sensible heels clacking against the tiled floor. Victor, donned in his usual tux, sits on one of the plush sofas as he smokes away on a cigar without a single care in the world.

He watches her walk about the room, concerned, “You’re gonna tire yourself out if you keep pacin’ like that, Doll.”

 

“They should’ve been here by now, Victor,” she huffs, taking a moment to stop at one of the large windows. Her eyes scan for any sign of the Drake brother’s, but to her dismay, her gaze is met only with the sight of the beautiful Italian countryside that, on any other occasion, would’ve definitely summoned a smile on her face.

 

“Ah, they’ll be here, don’t worry. Come on, take a seat, you’re makin me dizzy,” he pats the space beside him, but she just rolls her eyes.

 

“Too antsy to sit. I think I’ll go grab a drink, you want one?”

 

“Please,” he smiles at her, “and make it a double.”

 

“Yeah you wish, old timer. You’re the designated driver, remember?”

 

“You know I drive better drunk, anyways.”

 

She laughs, shaking her head, “Be right back,” and leaves Victor alone in the room.

 

***

 

Meanwhile, Sam and Nate continue scaling the estate.

 

“Not bad, for a second attempt,” Sam quips, watching as his younger brother swings from the rope he’d finally managed to snag onto a nearby beam. After Nate is up and moving, Sam throws his own rope over and quickly join Nathan on the other side of the clearing. The two begin walking, Nathan in front and Sam trailing a few feet behind.

 

The eldest finds himself lost in thought as he takes in the view around him. He knows he’s actually here, can feel the ground beneath his feet, smell the citrus in the air, feel the breeze off the ocean hit his skin, and yet, none of it seems quite real.

 

“So, how you feeling?” Nate brandishes the question off as an innocent one, though if Sam could see his face he would immediately know that Nate’s intentions were anything but.

 

Sam lets out a chuckle, a genuine grin spread across his features, “Pretty fuckin’ fantastic, actually. I mean, I’m in Italy with my baby brother, about to finally get my-sorry, _our_ -hands on St. Dismas’s cross. Doesn’t get much better than that.”

 

Nate hesitates a moment, the corner of his lips tugging into a mischievous smirk, “You’re not nervous at all?”

 

The eldest Drake scoffs, “Nervous? You kiddin’ me? I haven’t felt this good about something in ages,” he pauses, “Though, I’d feel even better if we brought some guns.”

 

“For the millionth time, we won’t need them, Sam,” Nate rolls his eyes, watching his brother carefully as he says his next words, “Besides, I figured it’d be best that no one was armed for the reunion, you know, with Mia being a horror nut and all we couldn’t take any chances of her mistaking you for a zombie-”

 

Sam’s jaw clenches and he stops in his tracks, “What, you didn’t tell her-“

 

Nate shrugs, pretending not to notice that Sam had stopped in his place, “I had Sully do the honors actually.”

 

Sam relaxes a bit at this and begins walking again.

 

“He’s better at talking her down than I am,” Nathan adds, his eyes landing on a perch above them, “Look, we can use that to hook onto.”

 

The two brothers then take turns latching their grappling gear onto the ledge, each climbing up the rope with ease. Sam tries his best to avoid asking questions, but at this point he’s too caught up to even worry about appearing desperate, “What’d she need talking down for?”

 

“Well finding out that someone you thought was dead for the last fifteen years is actually alive can be pretty jarring, don’t you think?” Nathan gestures over to a ledge, “here, gimme a boost. I think we’re almost there.”

 

Sam obliges, lifting his younger brother onto the ledge. He then reaches his arm down for Sam to grab hold of and soon the two are both on an upper level balcony.

 

“Should be just around the corner.”

 

“Nate, hold up,” Sam grabs onto Nathan’s arm, stopping the youngest Drake in his tracks. “D’you think she, I mean-” Sam fumbles with his words, his eyes searching his brother’s face.

 

“Sam, I’m sure she’s gonna be psyched to see you, okay? Now come on, we’re almost there,” He gives Sam a reassuring pat on his shoulder, but it does little to calm Sam’s nerves.

 

Reluctantly, he follows Nathan around the corner and soon the two are directly outside of the room.

 

“Ah, Nathan…Nathan?” Sam calls, stopping his brother, who’s already eagerly opened the window.

 

“What? Sam, I already told you she-“ He stop when he sees Sam unzipping their jumpsuit.

 

“Oh. Yeah,” Nate then does the same, both of the brothers now in their tuxedos as they kick their jumpsuits to the side.

 

Anxiously, Sam dusts himself off, playing with the waistband of his pants.

 

“You alright?” Nate asks.

 

“Yeah…how do I look?”

 

“Like 400 million bucks. Let’s go.”

 

Sam scoffs, “Alright, alright. I’m right behind ya.”

 

***                      

 

At the bar, Mia waits patiently for her drink, leaning against the counter as her fingers strum against its polished wooden surface. She listens casually to the conversations that go around her, the sounds more or less blending into a gentle hum that envelopes the space around her, and soon she finds herself lost in thought.

 

A voice from behind brings her back to the present, “I must admit, I’ve been going back and forth about coming over here for the past ten minutes.”

 

“And to think I was so close to avoiding this conversation.” _Rafe Adler_. She knew that voice anywhere, her face falling as she turns around to look at him. The energy between them is charged, volatile, like an open flame near a trail of gasoline.

 

He tries to muster a polite smile that oozes smugness instead, “It’s been a while,” he looks her up and down, “I see the years have been good to you.”

 

“Thank you,” she musters a smile, “I see you’ve still yet to go through puberty, but don’t worry, Bud, I’m sure you’ll get there,” she gives him a condescending pat on the shoulder.

 

He grits his teeth, letting out a dry, and painfully forced, laugh, “Always the charmer.”

 

“Well, you know me,” she shrugs, crossing her arms against her chest, “By the way, how’s Daddy dearest? Still let you sit on his lap while he makes big boy business decisions or did he get you your own highchair?”

 

“It’s _my_ business now, actually,” His body is incredibly tense, though his face tries desperately to ape composure.

 

She feigns astonishment, “Wow, no more training wheels for you, huh Mr. Man? How exciting.”

 

He tries to ignore her comments, “Yes, it is actually. I enjoy the work quite a lot.”

 

“’ _Work’,”_ She scoffs, laying on her sarcasm thick “Yeah, I don’t know if you can count deep throating Daddy’s silver spoon as work, but whatever helps you sleep at night.”

 

He’s irritated now and doesn’t hide it, his eyebrows furrowing into a scowl, “Must you always act like a petulant child? I thought perhaps fifteen years would be a long enough time to put the past behind us, but I see you’re just as infantile as ever.”

 

She laughs, genuinely pleased with his annoyance, “Says the insecure man baby.”

 

“You should be more careful with your tongue, Amelia,” His tone drops to menacing volume and he take a step closer to her, though all the while she looks amused.

 

“Uh-oh, someone’s a wittle angwy,” She pouts her lips at him.

 

At this point, he looks as if he’s going to explode, but before he can open his mouth, the bartender interrupts.

 

“Scusati Signora, your drinks,” the bartender places two scotches on the table and she smiles at him, grabbing both the glasses.

 

She turns back to Rafe, who seems to have calmed himself down a bit, though it’s still apparent that if provoked any further, he would most definitely detonate.

 

“We’ll I’d love to stay and chat, but I believe these amber beauties deserve my full attention,” she gestures to the glasses in her hand, “Be a good boy and give my love to the family, will you?”

 

He nods, jaw clenched, and she then disappears into the crowd.

 

* * *

 

Drinks in hand, Mia enters the room, “Victor, you’re not gonna believe who I just ran in-“

 

She stops at the sight of Nathan, her eyes going wide. “Nate!” She exclaims, practically throwing the drinks on a nearby table as the two rush into one another.

He easily picks her small frame off the ground as they embrace in a bear hug. When he sets her down she looks up at him affectionately, the look in her eyes comparable to that of a mother whose son just won the science fair.

 

She gives his cheek an affectionate pat, “Domesticity suits you, Drake.”

 

“So, I’ve been told,” He smiles, taking a moment to take in her appearance, “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

 

“Eh, I try.”

 

Sam then steps out from behind Nate, and instinctively her eyes go to the source of movement. Within moments, their eyes lock and for a second it’s as if they’re the only two in the room. She had prepared herself for the worse, expecting that Panama had not let him go easy, that he’d spent his years being chewed up by the harsh sun and the brutality only to be spit out a weathered shell. What she didn’t expect, however, is how warm her chest had felt at the sight of him. Sure, he’d changed, his once smooth face scattered with small scars and deep wrinkles, but she had to admit the years had been rather kind, noting a hint of ink poking out of the top of his suit that she made a note to ask him about later. He was so different and yet so familiar, but one thing that remained untouched were his eyes, kind and gleaming with mischief.

 

He, on the other hand, realized that his memories could not pale in comparison to the woman that stands in front of him now. Her hair, which used to be long and unruly, was now cut in a bob that fell just below her chin. He’d hardly ever saw her out of her usual jeans and faded band t-shirts, but here she stands in this gorgeous satin suit, and he finds his chest constricting painfully. He had been such a sucker for her back then, that 20 something year old mess he once knew, all angst and anxiety and an insatiable need for adventure, but this was so different. _She_ was so different, all elegance and poise and satin suits, and oh god, he thinks, I’m so screwed.

 

Finally, she speaks, a playful grin playing at her features, “Well you really suck at being dead.”

 

He laughs, his face lighting up, “That the best you could come up with?

 

“Come on, it’s wasn’t that bad. At least I didn’t take the easy road and make some joke about you being the second coming of Jesus.”

 

“See, that one sounds way more fitting.”

 

“Good to see your modesty’s still in tact.”  

 

He smirks, “You know me, humble as a saint.”

 

The two are unable to look away from one another, each with goofy grins on their faces. After an awkward amount of time, Victor coughs and Mia immediately looks in his direction, snapping herself out of whatever moment Sam and her had been in. “Right, we should get to the party. Plenty of time to play catch up later.”

 

She walks over to the table where the drinks were still sat, picking up her glass, which was already halfway gone, and bringing Sully his.

 

“Drinking on the job, really? I thought you two were supposed to be professionals,” Sam quips, earning a smirk from both Sully and Mia.

 

“Yeah, speaking of the job,” Mia looks at Sully expectantly.

 

“What? What about it?” Sam asks, his eyes darting between the two.

 

“Here, let me show you,” Sully gestures the three to follow him outside of the room and into the great hall, where they stand at the top of a marble staircase looking out at the crowd. He points to the stage where Avery cross sits already on display.

 

“That’s Avery’s cross,” Nate notes.

 

“Look at you, still sharp as a tack,” Mia smirks and he gives her a light shove.

 

“They brought it out of storage right before you got here,” Sully explains.

 

Sam shakes his head, going to lean on the railing of the staircase, “They changed the lot order.”

 

“Takes a whole lot of cash to make that happen,” Sully adds.

 

At this, Mia lets out a laugh, “Yeah, and I think I know exactly what asshole fronted the money.”

 

“Who?” Sam turns from the railing and all three now look at her.

 

“Rafe Adler,” she takes a sip of her drink, the men’s faces practically draining of color.

 

Sully curses under his breath, taking a drag of his cigar.

 

“Rafe’s here?” Nate asks.

 

She nods, “Yeah. I ran into him at the bar, actually.”

 

“Great. I’m sure that did a number on his mood,” Sully remarks, looking at her scornfully.

 

She lifts her hands in defense, “Hey, don’t look at me like that, I was perfectly cordial with him.”

 

“Why don’t I believe that for a damn second?”

 

“How’d he even find out about the cross?” Nate questions, but Mia brushes him off.

 

“Look, Rafe’s not our biggest concern right now. What we need to be worrying about is how the hell we’re going to get that cross without alerting the hundreds of eye witnesses and armed goons.”

 

“We’ll what if they don’t see us?” Sam suggests and the three look at him questioningly. “Jesus, you guys act like you never spent time in prison before,” Sully and Nate look at him expectantly, “If you want something dirty done-

 

All three finish the sentence together, “Wait for lights out.”

 

“You guys plan that?” Mia remarks, but Sam’s the only one that shoots her a smile.

 

Nate then opens a map on a nearby table and the four huddle around it, pinpointing the location of the electrical panel. They talk through the procedure, knowing that the backup generator would only give the team a limited amount of darkness.

 

“How can we get that close to the cross without anyone noticing?” Nate asks.

 

Just then, a waitress approaches the table with a tray of appetizers, Sam and Mia being the only two to take one. He attempts to flirt with the waitress, though she doesn’t encourage his behavior and leaves quickly, Sam’s gaze lingering on her as she walks away.

 

“Hey, come on, focus,” Nate hits his brother’s arm as Sam pops the appetizer into his mouth, finally turning his attention from the waitress to his team, “A waiter wouldn’t get noticed.”

 

“You sure seemed to notice her,” Mia quips and he smirks at her.

 

“That could work,” Sully agrees, the cogs in his head beginning turn.

 

“That will work,” Nate smiles.

 

The team then decide on jobs: Nate being assigned the power grid, Sam the role of the waiter, and Sully and Mia as lookouts/support. With the plan decided, the four head down the stairs and into the party, dispersing amongst themselves and arranging a meet up at the door to the cellar, which would act as short cut for Nate and Sam.

 

***

On her way to the cellar door, Mia spots a familiar figure on the balcony, and without even making the conscious decision to do so, she suddenly finds herself approaching him, coming to stand at his side.

 

“Hey, haven’t we met before?“ she teases, pretending to speculate his appearance.

 

He smirks instinctively at the sound of her voice and quickly catches on to her jest, taking a moment to observe her as if she was a stranger, “Don’t think so, sweetheart. I’d definitely remember a looker like you.”

 

“That so? Hmm, strange, cause I seem to recall patching up a bloody nose on someone who looked a lot like you.”

 

“Oh yeah?” A genuine smile finds its way onto his face at the mention of this memory.

 

“Yeah,” she pauses, a cheeky grin playing at the corner of her lips, “I mean, his hair line was a lot less receded-“

 

He widens his eyes, “Wow, really? We’re goin’ there already, huh short stop?”

 

She chuckles, “Short stop? Come on, aren’t height jokes a bit low brow for you?”

 

“Nothin’s too low brow for me, sister. You should know that by now.”

 

They smirk at one another for an alarmingly long amount of time, but Mia then breaks the moment and turns her gaze towards the gorgeous waterside cliffs in front of them, Sam following suit. They stand at the balcony side by side, both too nervous to look at the other and instead directing their attention to the view. The silence they find themselves in isn’t quite awkward, but there’s too much _something_ between them for the moment to be completely comfortable.

 

Sam reaches into his pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes, “Want one?” he offers, already placing one to lazily dangle from his lips. Though, his gaze doesn’t quite land on her and instead his eyes drift to his feet

 

She smiles, “Please,” and takes one, also keeping her eyes on anything but the man beside her. She then brings it to her lips and immediately he goes to light her’s first, the two leaning into one another as the flame ignites the white paper.

 

At this moment, they look at one another, a smile instinctively forming on both of their faces, and again it seems as if time stands completely still around them, as if this simple action of lighting her cigarette hadn’t spanned 10 seconds, but 10 years. He winks as he leans away from her, which causes her to breathe a laugh out of her nose, and she then turns her attention back to the view in front.

 

Though, Sam can’t help but keep his eyes on her as he lights his cigarette, his interest no longer being peaked by the Italian countryside. Again, a silence ensues.

 

They’re both only halfway done with their smokes when Nate approaches, “Guys, really? We don’t have time for a smoke break.”

 

They both turn to him apologetically, stomping out their cigarettes. “Sorry boss, wont happen again,” Mia pats his shoulder as she walks past him, the three then heading towards the door to the cellar.


	4. Four

So far, the group’s plan has been proceeding with little trouble. After lifting a key to the cellar from a clueless waiter and dispersing earpieces between the four of them, Nate and Sam both make their way through the inner corridors, while Mia and Sully join the crowd that continues to gather in the main ballroom.

 Once the two find a comfortable place to stand, Mia begins to scan the room continuously, checking her watch every few moments as she absentmindedly taps her foot against the tile floor. Victor notes her nervous behavior, but elects not to say anything, as that usually just made her anxiety worse. Though that doesn’t stop him from casting worried glances her way every few moments.

 

Again, she checks her watch, letting out an aggravated sigh, “how we doing, boys?”

 

Sam’s voice comes through the earpiece first. “Someone’s impatient.”

 

“Pretty similar to how we were two minutes ago when you last asked,” Nate answers, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

 

Sully gives her a reassuring pat on the back, “Relax kid, they got this.”

 

She lets out a deep sigh, checking her watch again. In an attempt to ease her anxiety, Mia downs the rest of her drink with a few large gulps.

 

Sully raises an eyebrow at her, “Hey, ease up on the scotch, will ya? We still got work to do.”

 

“What’re you, my mother?” she quips, rolling her eyes at him. She then places her empty glass on a nearby bar table, “I’m going to take a breather. This standing around is killing me.”

 

“Alright. Just hurry back.”

 

“Will do.”

 

With that, she turns on her heel and heads towards the back of the room.

 

***

Meanwhile, Sam and Nate have emerged from the wine cellar and now find themselves on an outdoor terrace of the estate. Just as Nathan has begun climbing one of the walls to gain access to an upper balcony, an unsuspecting waiter emerges from the building for a smoke break. Once his eyes lock onto Nathan hanging from the wall, he begins to yell in Italian at him, though he doesn’t notice Sam, who, in one fluid motion, grabs the cigarette from the waiter’s hand and knocks him out cold.

 

“Hey, easy on the civilians,” Nate calls, still hanging from the wall.

 

“So he’ll wake up in his underwear with a headache. We’ve been there before right?” He smirks, grabbing the waiter’s arms to drag him into the room he emerged from.

 

Nate chuckles, “Yeah, right.”

 

Still dragging the man, Sam looks up at his brother, “Well I got mine. You get yours.” He then disappears behind the door, leaving Nate to continue scaling the building towards the control room.

 *** 

 

Mia stares thoughtfully at one of the countless renaissance paintings that hang from the walls, her attention being completely absorbed by the scene in front of her. The painting depicts a young woman playing a piano, while a man, whose back is to the viewer, and an older woman listen intently to the music. She recognizes it immediately as a Vermeer, though the title of the piece itself escapes her. She remembers reading about how it had been stolen along with several other pieces from a Boston museum, this painting being the most valuable. The most important thing she remembered, however, was the excitement she had felt when reading about the heist and now, being a mere five feet from the haul’s most valuable item, she can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude (and a bit of jealousy) to it’s thieves, for it was after reading about the heist that her uncontrollable desire for adventure had begun.

 

Meanwhile, Sam, having changed into his waiter attire, walks aimlessly around the room as he assumes his role, tray in hand. Despite the space being full of people, his eyes quickly lock onto Mia’s shape in the distance, and ass if the two were magnetically connected, he unconsciously begins to make his way his way over to her. As he gets closer, a small smile finds itself on his face as he notices her concentration on the painting and within moments he stands mere inches behind her. Though she is still unaware of his presence, as the painting has consumed her full attention, and without the security of a museum to stop her, she reaches out her hand to run a finger over the raised paint on the canvas.

 

“No touching the art,” Sam suddenly speaks, causing her to jump. She turns from the painting to face him now.

 

“My apologies, sir.” She smiles, taking a glass of champagne from Sam’s tray.

 

“ _Sir_ … I like the sound of that.”

 

She takes a sip from the glass as he chuckles, her eyes wandering to the main ballroom, “I see a lot of thirsty criminals in there. You better get back to work before your boss notices.”

 

He shrugs, a cheeky gleam in his eye, “I think my boss would be more upset if I let a pretty thing like you go without refreshments.”

 

She lets an amused huff escape from her nose, “Your boss also encourage you to hit on female guests?”

 

“Only the particularly attractive ones,” he smirks, “So, really you should feel honored.”

 

“Honored, huh? Cause right now I’m feeling a lot more harassed,” She smirks back at him, but doesn’t hold eye contact, and instead lets her eyes drift back over to the crowd.

 

“Is that so? Well my apologies then, miss. I’ll let you four get back to it,” he gestures to the painting she had been mesmerized with earlier and then turns to walk back into the ballroom. As he moves farther and farther from her, she can’t help but let her gaze linger on his shape, and even more specifically, his ass. Though she quickly exiles these thoughts with a light shake of her head and a hearty sip of champagne.

 

***

 

In the ballroom, Victor, having been approached by Nadine Ross just moments after Mia excused herself, continues to converse with the bronze beauty. Despite a charged first encounter with one another, their conversation is rather light and the two laugh frequently. Though, their interaction is interrupted by none other than Rafe Adler.

 

“Victor goddamn Sullivan. How the hell are you?” He greets, holding his hand out for the elder to shake.

 

“Rafe Adler. Long time no see,” Victor takes his hand and the two give each other a hearty shake. He attempts to be cordial, regarding Rafe almost as warmly as he did Nadine, though the energy between them is still tense.

 

“What’s it been, twelve…thirteen years?” Rafe looks Sully up and down.

 

“Fifteen actually.”

 

“Incredible,” Rafe laughs, “Fifteen years later and here we are, still haggling over dead guy’s junk.”

 

Sully raises his eyebrows, the corner of his lip turning up into a mischievous grin, “Aren’t you running your parent’s business now?”

 

“ _My_ business, actually,” Rafe’s eyes flicker with anger for a brief moment, but he quickly regains his composure, offering Victor a tight smile, “But yes, that is my day job.”

 

“Helluva day job you got there. I bet you could buy everything on the lot tonight.”

 

“Sure, but where’s in the fun in that? Besides, I’m only looking for the good stuff,” He narrows his eyes at Sully who maintains his calm demeanor.

 

“I see,” Sully nods, pretending as if he didn’t know the direction Rafe was trying to steer the conversation.

 

Rafe presses on, “You know, big scores. Any advice on what I should pick up?”

 

Gesturing to Nadine, he chuckles, “Yeah, like I’d want to bid against this guy.” He then leans in closer to Rafe, “Though, between you and me, I noticed they changed the order of the items. I think someone here might be trying to rig the auction.”

 

“Remember where we are, Victor. These people didn’t get rich by playing nice.”

 

As Rafe finishes his thought, Nadine moves from her place beside Victor to now stand beside Rafe in a perfectly timed gesture of intimidation, “Which is why you should really have someone to watch your back in a place like this,” she adds.

 

Though, with almost a perfect sense of timing herself, Mia emerges from the crowd, “Don’t worry, you two. Victor and I can take of ourselves.” She smiles at them, giving Victor a friendly pat on his back. “Nadine,” she greets the woman with a casual nod, who returns the favor stiffly.

 

“Amelia.”

 

The two women stare at each other intensely, each summing the other one up.

 

A voice then comes through the speakers, informing the crowd that the next item, St. Dismas’s cross, is about to be auctioned. Victor and Mia exchange glances and the two begin to subtly step away from Rafe and Nadine.

 

Victor raises his cigar to them, “Well, we better get back to our spots. You two have a lovely-“

 

Rafe stops the two by grabbing onto Sully’s elbow, his eye’s locking onto the elder’s, “Just a minute. How’d you two find out about it?”

 

Mia scoffs amusedly, “It? What ‘it’ is that, Rafe?”

 

Sully smirks as him and Rafe continue to stare at one another, “Nadine, I think your partner here has had one too many bloody mary’s-“

 

Rafe knocks the glass of scotch out of Sully’s hand and points his finger aggressively at the elder, “Cut the bullshit, old man,” He turns to both of them now, his stance aggressive, and Sully and Mia look amusedly at him, as if watching a toddler having a temper tantrum, “I don’t know how you two scammed your way in here, but if you even think about bidding on Avery’s cross, I can tell you how you’ll be leaving. In goddamn body bags.”

 

“Rafe.” Nadine breaks Rafe out of his angry fog, the room around them uncomfortably silent. He looks to her and immediately regains his composure, a forced chuckle escaping his lips as the party around them turns their attention away from the group and back to their respective conversations.

 

“Well, you get my point,” Rafe backs away from them, smiling smugly.

 

“Might want to keep Scrappy Doo there on a tighter leash,” Mia looks at Nadine before turning to Sully, “ Come on. Let’s give the lovebirds some space.”

 

“Lovely seeing you both,” Sully bids them goodbye and him and Mia walk to the other side of the room.

 

Sully then subtly speaks into his earpiece, “Let’s ruin this asshole’s night.”

 ***

After Nate had successfully powered down the electricity of the estate, Sam used the few seconds of darkness to successfully pickpocket the cross before the backup generator had re-illuminated the room. During the blackout, Mia and Sully had attempted to sneak out unnoticed, though, just as the lights came on and in noticing the cross’s absence, Rafe catches the two slipping out of the gala.

 

With the guards on high alert, it becomes clear that their plan for a quiet getaway wasn’t going to come to fruition, and while Sully and Mia pull up the car, Nate and Sam find themselves in a violent fire fight as they try and make their way to the getaway vehicle.

 

Eventually, Sam and Nate find themselves at an outside villa, the said meeting place of the group, when a swarm of goons begin to ambush them. Though, just in the knick of the time, Sully, behind the wheel of a luxury car, crashes through a brick wall.

 

Mia emerges from the back seat, using the door as a shield as she begins to shoot at the armed guards. She yells over the fire fight to Nathan and Sam, “Come on, I’ll cover you!”

 

“Ah, my guardian angel,” Sam nudges Nathan who rolls his eyes.

 

The two then hurriedly make their way to the car and without a second thought, the three pile into the backseat as Sully screeches away from the estate like a bat out of hell.

 

With Mia squeezed in the middle and the two Drake brothers on each side of her, the three begin to erupt in a victorious laughter.

 

“Talk about a close one,” Sully notes, looking back at them through the rear view mirror.

 

“Eh, we’ve done worse,” Mia shrugs.

 

“Told you we should’ve brought guns,” Sam looks over to Nathan.

 

“How many times are you going to say that?” Nathan rubs his face in annoyance.

 

“Well what kind of big brother would I be if I didn’t constantly nag you for your mistakes, huh?”

 

Nathan rolls his eyes, “I don’t know. A supportive, healthy one?”

 

Mia pats both of their knees before Sam can respond, “Now now boys, settle down. We wouldn’t want grandpa to have to pull over the car, would we?”

 

“Keep it up and you’ll be walking back to the hotel,” Sully quips from the front seat.

 

The three, all with smiles on their faces, then fall into a comfortable silence as the car makes its way through the Italian countryside and towards their hotel.

  

***

After haggling with the front desk attendant, Sully manages to nag a villa at the hotel, allowing each of them to have their own rooms, which considering the unexpected fight from earlier, was a godsend to everyone.

 

Decorated lavishly, the villa, despite its obvious ostentatious décor, is quite cozy, with large windows and balconies that circumference the entire property. Now safe and free from the Rossi goons, the group finds themselves in the main living room of the place, each seated around the large oak table with their own glass of scotch, the boys having removed their ties and now sitting comfortably.

 

“Alright, what’re we waiting for boys? Let’s bust that thing open,” Mia leans forward in her chair, her eyes darting from the cross to her companions.

 

“Okay,” Sam agrees, lifting up a small hammer, “I hope I don’t go to hell for this,” he then brings down the tool and easily breaks off the top of the cross. Though, his face falls when he takes a look inside of it.

 

“Shit,” he breathes.

 

At this, everyone becomes on edge.

 

“What?” Nathan looks to his brother desperately.

 

“It’s empty.”

 

“You got to be fucking kidding me,” Mia seethes.

 

Sam then shakes the cross above the table and out comes a rolled up scrawl, the tenseness leaving the room the moment everyone’s eyes lock onto the paper.

 

Mia gives him a hard shove, a smile spreading itself across her face as she shakes her head disapprovingly at him.

 

“You’re such an asshole,” Nathan scoffs, relieved.

 

“He’s your brother,” Sully quips.

 

Bringing the paper closer to him, Sam examines it, Nathan and Mia both instinctively leaning towards him to get a closer look. Both of their eyes are aglow with complete fascination.

 

“Alright, skull and cross bones, that’s a good sign,” Sully notes, taking in the wax seal that holds together the paper.

 

“That’s Avery’s insignia,” Sam informs him.

 

Sam then carefully peels away the wax and unrolls the document on the table, revealing a picture of two crossed swords with the words “Hodie mecum eris Paradiso” encircling them and beneath them is a set of numbers.

 

Sam reads the words aloud and almost immediately him and Nathan decipher it,

 

“Today you will join me in paradise,” they state, the cogs in everyone’s brains beginning to turn as they try to decipher the hidden meaning.

 

“That’s what Saint Dismas said to Jesus on the cross but,” Sam stops himself, thinking. “What you guys think about these number here?”

 

“Maybe it’s a code. Or a phone number,” Sully chuckles, him being the only one sitting back in his chair, while Mia and Nate eagerly crowd around Sam.

 

Nate looks up to Mia and the two share a knowing glance, each catching on at the same time.

 

“What?” Sam looks at them curiously.

 

“You do the honors,” Mia gestures to Nate who happily takes the lead.

 

“Come on, they’re dates,” he states, moving the paper towards him to cover the last of the four numbers and leaving only the first set revealed, “1659.”

 

“The year Avery was born,” Sam nods.

 

Nate then moves his hand to cover the first four numbers now, “1699.”

 

“The year Avery was rumored to have died,” Mia adds.

 

“So that means we have a date of birth, date of death, and paradise,” Sam voices the pieces of the puzzle they’d acquired so far. “So that means we’re…”

 

“Looking for Avery’s gravesite,” Mia finishes and Sam flashes her a tiny smirk.

 

“Took the words right outta my mouth,” he winks.

 

“At Saint Dismas’s cathedral,” Nate stands and rummages through his jacket for his journal, flipping through its pages.

 

“Wait, hasn’t Rafe been scouring that place for ages?” Sully looks to Nate.

 

“Yeah, the _cathedral_ ,” Nate keeps his eyes glued to his journal as he continues searching for what he needs.

 

Though Sam and Sully seem to be out of the loop still, Mia finds herself quickly catching up to Nate, a knowing smile placing itself on her lips.

 

“He hasn’t been searching the graveyard though,” Mia notes, and Nate’s eyes shoot up to her.

 

“Exactly. See these symbols here?” he points to the upper corner decorations of the scroll they found inside of the cross, “These are from old Scottish gravestones. And check this out,” he then pulls out a paper from his journal and splays it against the table, diverting their attention to the map of the cathedral’s grounds. “The layout’s really weird. This is the cathedral,” he points to a marking on the map, before pointing to a different marking on the other side of the paper, “and this, all the way over here, is the graveyard.”

 

Sam’s eyes light up, “Rafe’s been looking in the wrong area this entire time,” he chuckles, a smug smile coming to rest on his face.

 

“Looks like we’re going to Scotland, fellas,” Mia smiles and raises her glass, though Sam is the only one to cling his drink against hers.

 

Sully, unlike the other three who seem enthralled, quickly goes into paternal mode, “Woah, woah, wait a minute here. Rafe knows we’re going to be coming.“

 

Mia shrugs, “So? We can handle Veruca Salt when we get there.”

 

Sam and Nate both chuckle at the nickname, but Sully is still unimpressed, “that lunatic wants nothing better than for you guys to show up. Plus he’s got Nadine and her army to back him up!”

 

Nate sighs, “Yeah, but he doesn’t have this,” he states, gesturing to the scroll. “Come on, the greatest pirate treasure of all time is right within our grasp.”

 

Sully gestures to the eldest Drake, “I thought this was about saving Sam?”

 

“Can’t it be both?” Mia adds, “You know, two birds one stone.”

 

“Exactly, thank you,” Nate looks to Mia before turning back to Sully, “We need the treasure to save Sam.”

 

Sully takes a deep breathe, leaning forward in his chair, “How is Elena okay with all of this?” Sully shoots a knowing glance to Nate.

 

Though before he can answer, Mia interrupts, “She’s meeting us in Scotland, right?”

 

“Well, I mean-“ Nathan fumbles with his words, unable to look at Mia or Sully as his eyes dart around the room. Her and Sully both let out audible sighs at the realization that Nate was, again, lying to Elena.

 

She closes her eyes in frustration, “Jesus, Nate. Again?” Exasperated, she looks up at him, and like a puppy being reprimanded for a recent accident, he looks back at her, as if his actions were out of his control.

 

Nate stammers, “What was I supposed to do-“

 

“You have to be fucking kidding me right now,” she says more to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation.

 

“Look, guys, it’s not that simple. She wouldn’t understand, okay?” Nate continues to explain in a desperate attempt to undig himself from this hole he now found himself in.

 

Sully’s tone becomes stern, “You are not giving her enough credit.”

 

“I can’t take that chance,” Nate looks between Mia and Sully, defeated. And at this, Sully too seems to be done with the conversation. Though, Mia isn’t.

 

She too becomes stern, her voice raising into a slight yell, “This is Elena we’re talking about Nate, not some cooped up housewife. We could use someone like her on our side right now!”

 

Nate crosses his arms against his chest, “No, Mia. I can’t risk it.”

 

She scoffs, walking over to the bar as a charged silence begins to fill the room. After pouring herself a hearty drink of vodka, her back to the boys, she begins to take long swigs from the glass, finishing off the majority of the liquor. She doesn’t turn to face them when she speaks, “Sam, Sully, can I have a moment alone with Nathan, please?”

 

Nathan desperately glances between them in a silent plea. Though, the two quickly stand from their chairs, clearly eager and grateful for a one way ticket out of this uncomfortable situation.

 

As Sam follows Sully out of the room, he gives his little brother a reassuring pat on his shoulder that does little to calm the younger drakes nervous. Nathan knew that he was in for quite the argument, and if he was really honest with himself (which of course he never was) he also knew that he deserved this anger unabashedly.

 

Once Sam and Sully had finally exited the room, she turns from the bar and goes to take a seat across from Nathan. He waits patiently for the lecture, his instincts thinking back to the days in the orphanage when Sister Catherine would crassly rip into him. Though, she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she gingerly sips at the rest of her drink, her fingers tracing circles on the glasses’ condensation. Every second spent in this silence is pure torture for Nathan. He sits, waiting patiently, the tension in his body as if he were at the top of a drop tower just waiting for the ride attendant to pull the switch. He knows this anxiety comes from a place of guilt; the realization that he was doing something very wrong and that he was going to have to face it soon. And this thought, he finds, makes him even more anxious. He doesn’t want to hear her vocalize all of the things he already knows, the things he’s locked away the past few days in an effort to preserve himself, because if she says them, he can’t ignore them anymore and pretend the thoughts of Elena leaving him for this were just exaggerated fears. He can try, and God knows he would, but these thoughts wouldn’t just exist in his head anymore, but her head as well. And if they’re not just in his head, if she too was thinking the same things as he was, then these fears are _real_ and _tangible_ , and _Oh god_ , he thinks, _what am I going to_ -

 

The second he hears her voice, his thoughts silence and his attention turns completely to her. She keeps her eyes glued to her glass, a light laugh escaping her lips as she begins to talk.

 

***

 

_The wedding had gone onto the wee hours of the morning, a good number of party goers still dancing away in the tented dance room seated higher up on the beach. Mia sits at the edge of the water, the waves coming to wet the tip of her feet as a half finished bottle of rum serves as her only company. Her arms are wrapped against her legs, her chin resting atop her knees as she looses herself in thought, eyes glued to the dark ocean in front of her._

 

_Suddenly, a voice from behind startles her out of her day dream, “Wow, stealing liquor from your best friend’s wedding? Now that’s gotta be a new low for you,” Nate chuckles, taking a seat beside Mia who now sits up, letting her legs stretch out in front of her._

_She smiles at him, “Guess I’m busted, huh?”_

_“I wont tell if you share.”_

_“Deal.”_

_Nate takes the bottle and downs a large gulp, “What’re you doing out here, anyways? The parties over that way,” he gestures his head over to the tent located farther up the beach._

_“Could ask you the same question.”_

_He smiles to himself, turning his attention to the ocean. The two sit in silence for several moments, each taking turns with the rum._

_“I can’t believe I’m actually married,” Nate laughs, a genuine smile spread across his face._

_“Smart move, though. That girl is way out of your league.”_

_“No kidding, I’m still trying to figure out why she’s still with me.”_

_She gives him a light shove, taking the bottle from his grasp, “Hey, come on, you’re not that bad. Give yourself a little credit.”_

_He nods to himself, his face suddenly becoming serious, “Just promise you won’t let me screw this up, alright?”_

_Mia lets out a laugh, believing him to be joking, “Jesus, that’s a big responsibility, don’t you think? Especially with your tendency for destruction.”_

_He looks at her, no signs of humor in his expression, “I’m serious, Mia. You know I’m not the best at self awareness-“_

_“Understatement of the century,” she smirks, and this finally breaks his composure, a smile spreading itself on his face once again._

_“See? Exactly,” he looks at her again, his eyes filled with that same intensity, “You know me better than anyone, probably even better than I know myself, and I just mean that…if I’m doing something stupid, something that’ll jeopardize Elena and me, that you’ll give me a good kick in the head and knock some sense into there.”_

_She nods, thinking for a moment as her eyes drift to the ocean in front of her, “Well, I’m down for the kicking part, but I don’t know how much help it’s going to be. You’re more difficult to talk down than you think.”_

_“Yeah,” he pauses, his gaze also moving to the ocean, “but just for insurance purposes.”_

_She lets out a laugh through her nose, “Fine. For insurance purposes.”_

_A silence then comes between them for a moment, before Nate quickly fills it with questions._

_“So, why are you out here anyway?”_

_“I was trying to escape Elena’s Great Uncle Gary. Guy gets pretty handsy after a couple gin and tonics,” she looks over at him, “and you?”_

_“Same, actually.”_

_They share a laugh._

_“Never were one for parties though, were you?”_

_She shrugs, “Eh, not really. I’m more of a drink in solitude and wallow kinda gal.”_

_Nate’s expression suddenly turns concerned, “No wallowing tonight though, right?”_

_“No, no,” she reassures him, waving her hands in the air, “just thinking.”_

_“What about?”_

_“Jeez, someone’s nosey tonight,” she laughs, bringing the rum to her lips before speaking again, though this time she’s barely audible over the sounds of music from the tent and the active waves before them. “I just—I wish he could’ve been here.”_

***

 

Nate and Sully have gathered in the kitchen area, both drinking their scotches in silence as the sounds of Nate and Mia arguing carry from the room across the hall to where they’re seated now.

 

“Sheesh, she’s sure rippin’ into him, huh?” Sam muses, swirling the ice cubes around in his glass.

 

Sully shrugs, taking a puff of his cigar, “Yeah, well someone’s gotta look out for him.”

 

Sam’s jaw tenses at this, though he says nothing, and again a silence ensues.

 

 

Mia and Nate are both standing now as they yell at one another. The conversation isn’t so much aggressive as it is just loud and passionate.

 

“I held back a few years ago, Nate, back when we were working with Chloe and Cutter, and you guys almost didn’t make it! I mean you were fucking separated for this exact reason and now you want to just do this to her all over again?”

 

He scoffs, running his hands through his hair in exasperation, “It’s not like that this time, alright? It’s different.”

 

“How the hell is this any different?” She glares at him.

 

“It just is, okay? I appreciate you’re concern, really I do, but this is between me and Elena-“

 

“Exactly! That why you _have_ to fucking tell her before this thing goes too far.”

 

He sighs, closing his eyes, “I can’t tell her now, Mia-“

 

“Can’t or won’t?”

 

He shrugs, “Both, I guess.”

 

She looks at him and he back at her. The anger in her eyes soon gives way to a pleading expression, though Nate holds his ground and seems to be dead set on keeping the entire journey from his wife.

 

At this realization, Mia runs a hand over her face and sighs deeply, “Fine. Do what you want.”

 

She then exits the room, slamming the door behind her and leaving Nathan alone in the sitting area. After a few moments, he goes onto the balcony and retrieves his phone, immediately dialing Elena’s number.

 

Angrily muttering under her breath, Mia makes her way down the long hallway and to her room. After shutting the door behind her, she leans against it for several moments and closes her eyes, her entire frame looking as if it was being weighed down. She then walks over to her suitcase, rummaging through it for an oversized t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, of which she quickly puts on.

 

Plopping down on the edge of the bed, her eyes suddenly take note of an unopened bottle of champagne that sits on the dresser in front of her. Curious, she steps over to it, quickly scanning the fancy labeled attached that read, “I Nostri Complimenti”, or our compliments. Without a second thought, she throws away the card and quickly dismembers the bottles wrapping to take a large gulp of the fizzy liquid inside.

 

Her eyes then drift to the balcony door and with her room now feeling stuffy and claustrophobic, she soon finds herself climbing up the railing of the terrace to sit on the roof, bottle of champagne beside her.

 

As she sits on the roof outside, Sam knocks on her door, and after waiting a few moments for a reply he never got, he decides to just enter the room anyways. Opening the door slowly, he peeks his head into the room to find it empty, the balcony doors open and allowing a cool breeze to flow throughout the space.

 

“Mia? You in here?” He calls, now fully in the room.

 

“Yeah, up here,” her voice comes from outside on the balcony and though he doesn’t see her out there, he follows the sound of it to find her seated on the roof of the terrace, her short legs not reaching past the overhang, which concealed her from him entirely.

 

“What’re you doin’ out here?” He looks up at her, an amused grin on his face.

 

She lifts the bottle of champagne to show it to him, “I thought it would pair nicely with some fresh air.”

 

He leans against the railing, lighting a cigarette, “I guess great minds really do think alike,” he smirks, reaching into his suit jacket to pull out a small handle of scotch. “Cheers,” he raises his bottle to her and the two take a swig of their respective drinks.

 

“Mind if I join you?” he gestures to the spot beside her.

 

She shrugs, taking a long swig from her bottle, “Yeah, but it’ll cost you.”

 

“How much?”

 

She pretends to think, taping a finger against her mouth, “A cigarette and a few shots of scotch will do.”

 

“Throw in some swigs of that champagne there and we got ourselves a deal, sweetheart.”

 

“I can live with that,” she scooches over a bit and pats the space beside her, encouraging him to climb up.

 

Placing the cigarette in between his teeth, Sam then steps onto the railing, allowing his tall frame to easily take it’s place beside Mia.

 

Once the two begin talking, they find themselves unable to stop, the hours that pass feeling more like mere minutes. With the bottles of alcohol having long ago been finished, both Sam and Mia find themselves in a comfortable drunk state, their backs now lying against the roof as they look up at the stars above them.

 

“You remember the first time we met?” He muses.

 

She lets out a laugh, “Jesus, do I ever.”

 

“I wanna say I was 26, so that meant you were what, eighteen?”

 

She nods, looking amusedly at him.

 

“You had those fuckin’ blue and purple streaks in your hair, frayed Ramones t-shirt, looking like you rolled straight out of a teen grunge magazine.”

 

She covers her face with her hands, groaning, “God, do you have to remind me about that part?”

 

“Oh come on, you looked cute.”

 

She removes her hands from her face to glare at him. “ _Cute_? I was not ‘cute’ okay. More like grade A badass. ”

 

“Badass, huh? Didn’t know badasses had other people order carryout for them since they were too nervous to talk on the phone.”  

 

She gives his arm a light slap, “Fuck you. I knew you were going to say that.”

 

He laughs, “How’d you even manage to track Sully down in the first place? That man’s not easy to find.”

 

“What, you don’t remember?”

 

Sam thinks for a moment, “ it had something to do with your dad, right? He uh—left you something of Sully’s, told you to find him if you ever needed something.”

 

She nods, a small smile playing at her lips, “I’m impressed.”

 

“Eh, what can I say. Still sharp as a tack,” he taps his finger against his temple.

 

She looks up at the stars again she talks, “Course the information he gave me was extremely outdated so I had to do a lot of grunt work to actually find him. I started searching around…16 I think, so it took me a good two years. Once I finally tracked him down though, I remember staking out his place for a while and for some reason, I thought the best idea would be to hide out in his house and wait for him to get home. Wasn’t expecting him to have two tag alongs though.”

 

He chuckles, “Yeah, some introduction that was. He pulled a gun on you, didn’t he?”

 

“Oh yeah. But I mean, I pulled a gun on him right after that, so…”

 

“Shit. That’s right,” he smiles fondly as the memory becomes clearer, “We had a good ol’ fashioned stand off. If I remember correctly, you held your own pretty damn well though.”

 

“Like I said, grade A badass.”

 

He lets out a chuckle, “You two get into a lot trouble throughout the years?”

 

“We’ve had our fair share,” she smirks, a fond smile forming on her face as her mind begins to sort through the memories with her grey haired companion.

 

“Care to elaborate?”

 

She begins to tell a story from a few years ago, one where her and Sully had both been sleeping with the same woman without either having noticed.

 

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Sam’s eyes are wide in interest.

 

“No. Swear to god,” she crosses her heart with her left hand, “We’d been working in France for a while and I don’t know, we usually have this rule that while we’re on a job, we have to focus just on the work, you know, no diddling around. But uh…obviously we both were—tied up elsewhere and didn’t want to tell the other in fear of getting reprimanded. She was our history consultant too, so that was just a double no.”

 

“No shit,” Sam lets this all sink in, a cheeky grin on his face the entire time.

 

“She was a sneaky one too. I mean, we’d all three be together a lot, I’m talking A LOT, like hours spent crammed in a loft, and neither of us caught on. I mean, I’d notice her flirting with Sully every now and then, but I just chalked it up to innocent conversation, and he did the same when he noticed us flirting. The best part is, we didn’t even realize all this until months after, once the job had already been down and we were back looking for employment.”

 

Sam chuckles, shaking his head. He stares at her while she talks, unable to take his eyes from her face, as if she’d vanish in thin air if he happened to look away. He still wasn’t used to the fact that she now existed outside of his memories, that she was _real_ and _here_ and god, so fucking close to him. He swore he could feel the heat from her body coming off of her in waves, waves that threatened to pull him into her orbit if he wasn’t careful enough, and suddenly he’s painfully aware of the fact that if he just moved his hand an inch, a meesly inch, their fingers would touch, and the thought overtakes him.

 

“What?” She’s looking at him now and it takes him a moment to even register that the words coming out of her mouth are addressed to him. “Is there something on my face?”

 

“No, I-“

 

“Shit, did I spill champagne on myself?” She begins fumbling with her clothes, looking down at them, “I swear I can’t drink one thing without-“

 

He’s laughing now, swatting her hands away, “Quit fussin’, you didn’t spill a thing.”

 

She gives him a light shove, “Why are you staring at me like that then?”

 

“Like what?”

 

She chuckles, “Like a deer in headlights.”

 

“I was just thinkin’,” he shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, “You know, it’s a bit weird, us bein’ here.”

 

“Yeah, especially since you’re supposed to be six feet under-- hey, that reminds me, I gotta cancel your grave tending now that your inconsiderate ass decided to resurrect himself.

 

He looks at her, his eyes filling with a complicated mix of emotions, “You had someone tend to my grave?”

 

She holds out her hands as if to stop his racing thoughts, “Don’t let that inflate your ego though, okay? Tend is the nice way of putting it. Really I just paid a couple teenagers to spray paint your tombstone with ‘world’s smallest penis”, you know, to commemorate your achievements when you were alive.”

 

He chuckles, bringing his hand to rest against his chest, “I’m touched, Mia. Truly. My heart is so full I think it’s gonna burst.”

 

She scoffs, “Are you actually going to die this time or is this like your new 15 year tradition?”

 

“I don’t know, I guess you’ll have to wait 15 years and find out.”

 

“Well shit. The suspense is killing me.”

 

He smirks, “That gives you plenty of time to come up with a better line the next time you see me.”

 

“Hey my first one was not that bad-“ she stops herself, her eyebrows narrowing, “Wait, weren’t you saying something earlier? I feel like you were right in the middle of something when I went on a tangent.”

 

He shakes his head, “Nah, it was stupid.”

 

She rolls her eyes, giving him a shove, “Sam, come on, just tell me.”

 

He sighs, moving his gaze to focus on the stars above them, “I was just thinkin’ how, I don’t know, even with everything that’s changed, how different we both are, it still feels the same, don’t it? Kinda like we weren’t apart the last 15 years.”

 

She feels a blush crawling on her cheeks and elects to look up at the sky as well, hoping the cool breeze would tame her nerves. She searches for the right words to say, but all that comes out is, “It does.”

 

Without warning, and before the moment could proceed any further. Sam sits up and stretches his arms above his head, “Alright, I’m gonna hit the sack. You should too, short stop. We gotta long day ahead of us,” he gives her knee a pat before jumping down to the balcony below.

 

She sits up now to look down at him, her lips curved into a smirk, “Well look at you, Mr. Responsible. “

 

“Shuddup,” he holds his arms out to her, “Here, c’mon. I’ll help you down.”

 

She lightly kicks his hands away, “Nah. I think ill stay out here a bit longer,” she then lays back down on the roof.

 

“Suit yourself. Just don’t stay up too late, okay?”

 

“Okay, dad.”

 

At this he smirks, “Night, Mia.”

 

“Night, Sam.”

 

She listens to the sound of his feet as he leaves her room, the sound of the door closing signaling his absence. She stays on the roof for several moments, cursing herself for not saying what she so desperately wanted to. Her mind begins to race and taking advantage of the courage the alcohol had given her, she launches herself off the roof to the balcony below to hurriedly follow after Sam.

 

While Mia was having her dilemma, Sam too found himself in a similar predicament right outside of her door. After walking down the hallway a bit, he quickly turned back and went to stand outside of her room, debating on whether or not he should re enter. He reaches for the door handle several times, but is unable to make himself grab it, and instead, Sam elects to just go to bed like he had originally planned. Though, just as he turns from her room to walk towards his own, Mia throws open the door and crashes herself into his back, her arms coming to tightly wrap himself around his waste. The sudden contact stuns him for a moment, but he quickly brings his arms to rest against hers, a chuckle causing his chest to shake against her.

 

“Guess I gotta learn to watch my back more, huh?”

 

He feels her chuckle against him, “I’m glad you’re back, Sammy.”

 

 _Sammy._ The sudden use of this nickname hits him like a brick to the back of the head, utterly disorienting him. He feels his face becoming hot, and he thanks god that she couldn’t see him right now. He tries to form a reply, to say that he missed her too, that he’d been waiting for this moment for fifteen goddamn years, but nothing comes from his lips, and she then quickly detaches herself from him. Before he can turn to face her, she disappears back into her room, leaving him to stand in the hallway, looking longingly at her door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus between chapters, but I hope the length of this one makes up for it :)


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter is mostly just filler, but I wanted to get something out since it's been a while. My semester started last week and has been hectic so far, so updates will probably come sparingly, but next chapter is Scotland and that'll definitely be more exciting!!! (at least, I hope so)

Rafe Adler sits alone at the hotel bar, the last of the patrons having drunkenly filed out long ago. Even the piano man for the night had called it quits, and now the only sounds in the darkly lit room come from the elevator-like music that plays through the nearby lobby’s speakers. Though the silence would make most people uncomfortable, Rafe finds the peace and quiet as a godsend, and this only encourages him to continue drinking further. With his suit jacket slung over the chair beside him, Rafe slouches over the counter as his watery blue eyes stay locked onto his glass, as if the liquid inside held the answers to the problems Rafe now found himself faced with. Why hadn’t he considered the possibility of Sam betraying him? After having spent the last two years together, Rafe had been so ignorantly sure of his loyalty that he chalked up Sam’s recent disappearance to nothing more than his usual, flighty behavior. He remembers coming across Sam’s empty bedroom a few morning’s ago, _Probably off fooling around with another married housewife,_ he thought, his mind never once straying to the idea that his absence was intentional. He had assured Nadine, his recent addition to the venture, that Sam would be returning soon and that things would be back to usual. And he himself, had even thought this. But the moment he saw _her_ there at the auction, he realized just how foolish he had been. And now he finds himself grappling with childish emotions he had long thought were dead, non-existent.

 

The bartender of the joint, a shortly, unassuming man, had given up on serving him about an hour ago and had just placed a bottle of liquor in front of him instead, which Rafe quickly thanked by placing a crisp 100$ bill in the tip jar. He watches Rafe sympathetically as he goes about cleaning up the place, and in noticing the tenseness of Rafe’s posture (despite the inhuman amount of alcohol he’d consumed), he thought it best to leave him be until he was done.

 

Lost in thought, Rafe is unaware that Nadine has entered the bar and now stands behind him, her arms crossed tightly against her chest.

 

“Come on, Rafe. You’ve had enough,” she attempts to keep her tone even and fights the urge to scold him.

 

Everything in him wants to argue, and when he turns to her to bark out a snarky comment, all that manages to come out is “ ItS’fine.” What he expects is her to be annoyed, maybe even a bit angry, but when she looks back at him sympathetically, he finds himself almost wishing that she’d been more upset. Anything was better than how she looked at him now, like he was some child having just dropped an ice cream cone on the cement. Embarrassed he looks away, and in downing the last bit of alcohol in his glass, he wobbly moves himself to stand.

 

She takes a step towards him, arms out to balance his wavering stance, though he shoos her away and instead, takes hold of the bar, “I got it, I got it,” he stammers, and again, attempts to stand by himself. At first, it seems that he might be able to pull off the walk to the hotel room without aid, though at the first step he takes away from the bar, his muscles immediately give out, and Nadine rushes to his side, keeping him from toppling over.

 

She then goes to wrap an arm around his waist, and though he wants to dismiss her help, he finds himself unable to do anything but allow Nadine to usher him out of the bar and towards the elevator. She moves his body with ease throughout the lobby and soon they’re standing directly in front of the large golden doors of the lift, waiting in an awkward silence as an elevator car slowly makes its way down to them.

 

After what feels like an eternity, the doors finally open and allow the two to step inside. Nadine immediately presses their floor as Rafe separates himself from her grasp, and instead, goes to lean against the railing at the rear wall of the elevator, creating an obstinate distance between the two. Again, they spend this trip to their floor in silence, neither wanting to acknowledge the discomfort of the situation.

 

Now outside of his room, she holds the door open for him as he clumsily hobbles inside, allowing his jacket to fall on the floor behind him as he makes his way through the dark space and towards the couch on the opposite end of the spacious room. Nadine allows the door to close behind her, but stays standing at the threshold, watching her partner with concern. She goes to turn on the light, thinking it would help him.

 

“Shut that off,” he seethes, finally coming to plop down on the couch, and wordlessly, she does just that. Again the two are in an all-consuming darkness, the minimal light from the windows being the only source of illumination. She watches as he sinks down in his seat, resting his elbows on his thighs as he holds his head in his hands, as if the weight of it was too much for his shoulders to bare alone. Nadine is more than a bit stunned with his condition. Though they’ve only been working together for a short amount of time, she’d never expect to see this kind of solemn behavior out of someone like him, someone who carried himself with the air of cold, calculating control. But this? This is not a man in control, this was a man desperate for approval, a man that was broken and defeated, and this makes her horribly uncomfortable. Despite the utter discomfort she feels in seeing him like this, leaving him alone just doesn’t seem like the right thing to either. So, instead, she forces herself sits in the dark with him, both on opposite sides of the dramatically long couch.

 

After a while spent in silence, Rafe finally speaks. “I’m sorry,” he breathes, the sound practically inaudible, and she almost pinches herself to make sure she hadn’t hallucinated those words, “I should’ve known he was going to do this. We should’ve just stolen the cross like you’d suggested.”

 

He stops himself, and again an awkward silence wraps itself around them. Nadine, in not being the most emotional of people, finds herself wracking her brain for something to say, anything that would make this moment less insufferable.

 

She clears her throat, watching him cautiously, “it’s okay, Rafe.”

 

Though, this does nothing to calm the situation and instead, he finds himself being surged with anger now. Nadine relaxes a bit despite his sudden tenseness, as this Rafe was one she recognized and knew how to handle, “What about this is okay, Nadine? The part where they got away with _our_ goddamn cross or the part where Sam Drake fucking betrayed us?” He seethes, and despite his intoxication, the words still manage to come out menacing. “We had this in the fucking bag, and now we’re back at square one like a bunch of fucking amateurs,” he runs a hand through his disheveled hair, “How could I have been so naïve, so…so _trusting_ of someone like Sam Drake? And then to see that he’s dragged his good for nothing little brother and that senile prick and…and…” he stops himself as he thinks about Mia, unable to say her name out loud as his face suddenly softens.

 

She watches him curiously, completely unbothered by his sudden mood swings.

“You’re familiar with Amelia Braddock, yes? The woman that was with Sullivan at the auction,” he finally continues, eyes glued to his shoes.

 

“Familiar’s a nice way of putting it, but ja.”

 

Rafe nods, contemplating his next words, “She’s a good girl, that one. Can’t help it that her breeding was poor and she chose to stick around with those losers, but she…she’s different than them. She’s _special,”_ he pauses, attempting to even his tone to seem unbothered, instead of melancholic, _“_ After that mishap in Panama, she took things pretty hard, but I did my best to help her out, to smoothen her transition. If it wasn’t for that fucking brute Nathan Drake, we might’ve actually been something together, but….Alas, here she is still at the beck and call of those useless fucking Drake’s. _”_

Nadine rolls her eyes at this, unable to control the scoff that escapes from her lips, “I think we have bigger problems on our hand than some little-“

 

He smashes his hand down on the glass table, causing the vase on its surface to wobble, “Don’t. Fucking. Tell me. What I have to worry about, Nadine,” he speaks through gritted teeth, as if his mouth was a cage that just nearly managed to hold in his anger.

 

At this, she stands, knowing that if she stayed any longer he’d probably elicit a response from her that would be anything but pleasing to his ears. And besides, the last thing she wanted to discuss with a drunk, sad man was his unrequited love for a member of their competition, “Get some rest, Ja? We’ll go over the plan in the morning.”

 

He doesn’t look up to watch her leave and instead, goes over to the simple bar in the corner of the room, pouring himself another heaping drink as he tries to drown the remaining sentiments he finds himself fighting with.

 ***

_Having not been able to sleep that night, Mia finds herself watching the rising sun as it’s hues of golden oranges and rosy pinks begin to envelope her once dark room with color, the tropical birds outside of her window beginning to wake and call out their songs into the early morning. Normally, the sight of something this beautiful would summon a smile on her face and a warm, comforting feeling in her chest. Though, in this moment, all she feels is dread, an all consuming sense of anxiety that the day she had been nervously waiting for was finally here: the day Sam and Nate were leaving for prison._

_The rest of the morning goes by in a daze. She watches the boys finish packing and strategizing, and though she knows she’s physically with them, the entire experience feels fake, as if she were watching these events unfold on a movie screen and not through her own eyes. As unnerving as this sensation is to her, she can’t help but think that maybe it was better this way. Maybe this would make it easier to say goodbye, to ignore the fears that she’d collected during the weeks of planning for this, and instead, be able to calmly accept their impending departure that was now going to happen at any moment. She tries her best to appear grounded in the conversations with the boys, being careful to nod when acceptable or hum an agreement or disagreement when prompted. It’s enough to fool Nate and Rafe, who go about the last of their to-do list without a clue, but Sam on the other hand notes this behavior almost immediately. Even with the daunting task ahead of him, Sam finds himself distracted over this, and is unable to focus on much else but her._

_Mia, however, is unaware of this and believes all three of the boys to be completely preoccupied. Huddled around the kitchen counter, the three go over strategies and basic important information while Mia sits off to the side, pretending to listen intently. She doesn’t notice that Sam keeps glancing up at her, and in thinking that her presence wouldn’t be missed if she stepped out for a moment, she decides to do just that, exiting the kitchen quietly to step out onto the balcony in the next room. With the sun now fully settled in the sky and sitting low in the horizon, she’s met immediately with a wave of heavy heat as she exits the air conditioned home to step out on the porch. Instinctively, she braces her elbows against the railing as a deep sigh escapes from her chest, and suddenly, almost as if this breathe had dissipated the fog that once surrounded her, she finds herself struggling to keep it together as the reality of this morning crashes through her resolve like a sledgehammer. Mia’s chest begins to rise and fall with rapid breaths as her hands begin to tingle with a familiar numbness, and despite all that she had done to try and prevent this, she knows now that a panic attack was beginning to settle around her and would, if she couldn’t pull herself together, consume her entirely._

_Unbeknownst to her, Sam had watched as she left the room and had been waiting for her return anxiously, having to stop himself from going after her the second she left his sight line. Though, after waiting what he considered a reasonable amount of time (5 minutes), he casually dismissed himself from the kitchen to “take a leak” and then proceeded to follow after Mia. Stepping into the family room, his eyes lock onto her slumped over state immediately, and without wasting a single second, he goes to join her. The sound of the door sliding open behind her is the slap in the face she needed, and she’s able to restrict her panic now to just a dull throbbing in her chest. Despite the fact that she had pulled herself together with super human speed, Sam had still noticed that she wasn’t okay, and this realization scares him much more than any of the situations that await him in prison. He comes to stand beside her, aping her posture and placing himself only a small distance away from her._

_Turning to Sam, she fakes a smile, and in locking eyes with him, she wishes she would’ve kept her view on the cityscape before her. “How’s the nose?”_

_“Eh, a bit sore, but I’ll live,” he shrugs, offering her a grin. But his expression is filled with concern, and though Sam was not usually one to press on about matters like this, he finds himself unable to control himself, “You okay?”_

_She nods, turning away from him, “Yeah, just a bit tired.”_

_He examines her carefully, the response being completely unsatisfactory to him. But, before he can say another word, a knock comes from the glass behind them, causing both to turn towards the sound to find Nate, who mouths “Five minutes” as he holds up his wrist to tap against an imaginary watch._

_Sam waves a hand dismissively at him and Nate rolls his eyes before disappearing away from the glass._

_“We better get back inside,” she states, already beginning to walk towards the door. Sam then reaches out to her and grabs hold of her wrist, stopping her in her tracks to face him. She tries desperately to avoid eye contact, and with their large height difference, she elects to stare only at his chest, while his eyes roam over her concernedly._

_“Sam, come on,” she lets out an aggravated huff as she tries to tug her arm away from his, her body urging towards the direction of the living room, but he quickly takes hold of her other wrist and holds her in place._

_“Would you just look at me for one sec?” He pleads._

_She huffs, trying in vain to pull herself from him as she stubbornly continues to avoid eye contact._

_“Mia, hey,” his tone his soft, gentle, though this just makes her even more uneasy and she tries once again to free herself. Removing one hand from her wrist, he brings it up to cup the side of her face, and when she tries to swat it away, he then releases his other hand from her arm and now cradles her face between his hands, which makes her freeze entirely, “Please look at me.”_

_“Sam, let me go,” she breathes, her eyes beginning to brim with tears as she continues to keep them from locking onto his._

_“I will once you look at me,” he states simply._

_Again, she lets out an aggravated huff and finally brings her gaze to meet his, doing her best to give him a glare. Though, the moment she’s met with the sight of his hazel eyes, her face completely softens to an expression of utter defeat._

_Staring down at her fondly, a smile finds its way on his face, “See? Was that really so hard?” Instinctively, he lets his thumb caress her cheek, and before she can give it a second thought, she feels herself easing into his touch, her face leaning into his hands._

_He smiles fondly at this, “I’ll be back before you know it, alright?”_

_“Promise?”_

_“Cross my heart,” he apes a serious expression, taking his hands from her face to draw an X over his chest._

_At this, she musters a smile, and the sight of it is enough to erect a goofy grin on his own face. He isn’t sure what brings him to do it, maybe instinct, maybe lingering romantic feelings, but whatever the reasoning, Sam finds himself placing a kiss on her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin as he takes in the citrusy scent of her shampoo. Mia, rendered absolutely shocked, stands utterly still as this occurs, and before she can over think the situation, Sam has already stepped away from her, smiling casually as if the intimate moment had never even occurred._

_“C’mon, we better head inside before the guys’ get their panties in a wad.”_

_And without another word, the two head back into the living room._

_Two weeks later—_

_A hard, frantic knock awakens Mia in the middle of the night. Groggily, she turns to glance at the clock beside her, which reads 3:10 in red, glaring digits, and at first she believes the sound to be a hallucination. Though, when the loud banging comes again, this time even more desperate, she immediately rips the covers from her body and leaps from her bed, suddenly overcome with excitement. She tries to contain the childlike glee that overcomes her as she races to the door, her brain unable to come up with any other reason for the unexpected early morning visit than the boys finally being home. However, when she swings open the front door, the smile on her face immediately falls as she’s met with the sight of only Nate, who looks as if he was about to crumble into a million pieces. The sight of this is enough to confirm her worst fears, and before she can even react to her realization that something horrible had happened, Nate crashes himself into her, wrapping his arms around her desperately like a child clinging to it’s mother as loud, unabashed sobs begin to rack his body. Unable to support himself, and with her being much smaller than he, the two collapse on the floor as she cradles his head in her arms, trying to control her own cries that threaten to escape her._

_“He’s gone, he’s gone, he’s really gone,” Nathan sobs incoherently into her chest, and the two stay like this for what seems like ages, tangled together in a grief so consuming they could do nothing but let it overtake them_


	6. Six

Mia is the first of the group to awake, allowing herself to enjoy the blissful and quiet company of the early morning in peace. After taking a quick shower and packing up her things for their departure, Mia ventures out into the hall and carefully tiptoes her way into the kitchen, immediately going to the espresso machine that nearly takes up an entire counter. She fumbles with it for a few minutes but eventually figures it out, and waits patiently at its side while it begins to gurgle to life.

 

“Looks like you beat me too it,” Sullivan smirks as he enters the kitchen, coming to take a seat at the island counter across from her, donned in a red silk robe and with a newspaper in hand. “Make me a cup, will you? I can never figure out how to use those damned things.”

 

“And a good morning to you too, Mr. Hefner,” she pauses, giving him a grin as she gestures to his clothes, “Good to see the robe’s still in commission,” She hands Sully the now full cup and goes to make herself another.

 

“I thought it suited the mood,” Sully shrugs, taking a small, careful sip of scalding espresso. “You sleep okay?”

 

“Eh, can’t complain. What about you?” Grabbing her own cup now, she comes to stand across from Sully, leaning her elbows against the counter as the two begin to fall into their natural morning routine, almost as if they weren’t in some foreign country and instead, were within the comfort of their own home.

 

“Can’t complain,” he repeats, opening his newspaper which, he finally realizes, is in Italian. He scoffs at this, angrily folding the paper back shut, “You know, you would think with all the times I’ve been here, I’d’ have managed to learn some Italian by now.”

 

She laughs, coming to sit next to him at the counter as she grabs the paper, her eyes skimming the small font, “Want me to translate for you?”

 

He raises his eyebrows, “Aren’t you a doll. I didn’t know you spoke the language.”

 

“I don’t. I mean, not well anyways. But I can read it okay. Remember that job we had with all of those 18th century Italian documents?”

 

He nods, taking another sip of coffee.

 

“After spending weeks upon weeks of translating those pesky fuckers, I realized I’d managed to learn the written form of the language pretty well.”

 

He smirks, “Guess that job did pay off after all, huh?”

 

“Yeah, don’t know if I’d say that, but it comes in handy every now and again.”

 

“Like when you need to read an old geezer the paper?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

They smile warmly at each other before she turns her attention back to the paper, her fingers flipping through the thin pages, “So, what section should we start at? I vote comics.”

 

“Eh, its not as funny when someone reads em’ to you though.”

 

She shrugs, “Fair point. How about world news?”

 

“That’ll do.”  

 

She then begins summarizing the articles to him, while Sully sips away on his coffee, his eyes wandering about the room. They go through several pages before Sully finally stops her.

 

He scoffs, “Jesus, it’s almost 8. Those boys should’ve been up by now.”

 

She lets the paper settle onto the counter, raising her arms to stretch above her head, “When have the Drakes ever been early risers?”

 

“Good point,” Sully scotches off his chair and picks up his espresso cup, downing the last bit of dark liquid inside, “I’ll handle Nathan, you take care of Sam, yeah?”

 

“Deal.”

 

Standing outside of Sam’s door, a fresh cup of espresso in hand, Mia lifts her fist to knock against the dark oak but realizes that the door was already slightly ajar. A cheeky grin finds itself on her face, and using her foot, she gently nudges the door open, her eyes being met with the sight of Sam tangled in his sheets. In nothing but a thin t-shirt and boxers, he lies directly in the middle of the mattress, a pillow hugged tightly between his arms, his eyebrows furrowed into a deep line.

 

Knowing his light sleeping tendencies, Mia carefully tiptoes her way to his bedside, silently placing the cup on the table as she tries her best to stifle her laughter. She kneels down to get a better look at him and for a moment she’s lost, her features softening, the idea of scaring him now being overtaken by the sheer amount of _warmth_ she feels when looking at him. Rarely had Sam ever looked this peaceful, this quiet, his body rising slowly with each deep breath he took, and this was something that she never thought she’d see again, let alone be three feet from. The moment is unexpectedly overwhelming, as if she’d walked in on some sort of rare, other worldly phenomenon, one that was catered just to her.

 

He stirs a bit, a mumble escaping his lips as a stray hair falls in front of his face, and out of pure instinct, her entire being still utterly hypnotized by his presence, she reaches her hand out to brush the hair away. At this, Sam’s eyes snap open, his hand abruptly leaving the pillow to grasp at her wrist. Mia lets out a yelp that quickly turns into an amused laugh, and the moment Sam’s tired eyes take in the face of his unexpected visitor, he relaxes, letting her wrist go as his hands come to rub at his face.

 

“Jesus Christ, haven’t you ever heard of knocking? You scared the shit out of me,” His breathing his hard, his voice still tired from sleep.

 

Mia laughs still, standing up now to look down at him, “Thought it’d be more fun to surprise you.”

 

“Yeah well next time, don’t,” Sam takes a pillow from beneath his head to toss it at her, the fabric making a loud THUMP as it collided with her face.

 

“How about next time you get up when you’re supposed to,” she leans down to pick the pillow back up and tosses it back at him, though with more force. It hits him in the stomach and causes him to let out an instinctive groan.

 

“Hey, easy there, tiger,” he stretches lazily, still not making any effort to move himself.

 

“Alright, come on, Sam. You got plenty of time to sleep when you’re dead, yeah?” She comes to stand at the foot of the bed, crossing her arms in an attempt to look stern.

 

He just looks back at her smugly, coming to bring his arms to rest behind his head as his eyes sleepily roam over her figure, “You always look this beautiful in the morning?”

 

She scoffs, trying to fight the grin that threatens to take over her lips, “I don’t know. You always this difficult?”

 

“Only if that’s what you li-“

 

Mia grabs hold of the bottom of the sheets and rips them off of him, throwing them onto the floor.

 

“What the hell, Mia!”

 

She crosses her arms again, and attempts to make herself look even more stern, though this only makes her look more adorable to Sam, “Come on, sleeping beauty. We gotta get going.”

 

He smirks at her, his tired eyes beginning to twinkle with that familiar spark she came to love, “Sure you don’t wanna come cuddle for a bit?”

 

She almost wants to say yes, her eyes drifting to his exposed arms, thoughts of how they’d feel wrapped around her racing through her mind, but she banishes this idea almost the second it comes to her, “Sam, we don’t have time for this.“

 

He smirks seductively at her now, his hand coming to rub circles on the empty place beside him, “ I always have time for you.”

 

“Sam.” She stares at him, deadpan, hoping to god that her face wasn’t has hot as the rest of the her body had felt, and he relents, holding up his hands in mock defense as he throws his legs over the side of the bed.

 

“Alright, alright, no need to get all fascist on me.”

 

“You got 30 minutes, smartass, or else we’re leaving without you.”

 

She goes to exit the room but he calls after her, his hands tugging at the bottom of his t-shirt. She stops just short of the door to look back at him.

 

“What, you’re not gonna help me get dressed?”

 

“I’m sure you can manage,” she calls back, trying her best to sound unaffected.

 

“Ah, you’re no fun.”  

 

And at that he watches her leave the room. Only when she’s in the hallway does she allow herself to smile.

 

***

After a short flight, the gang finds themselves hovering over their landing place; a small, secluded dock on the outskirts of Scotland, somewhere in-between the lands of the cathedral and the nearest town. The skies are muddled with grey clouds, though the scenery below them is still beautiful and everyone in the plane seems to feel a certain tug in their chests at the sight of it. For Nate and Mia, it was both a reminder of the bleakest time of their lives, a time when they were following a dream that had died with Sam and was empty of all meaning, and now, fifteen years later, that same dream is suddenly breathing with life, feeling as if nothing and everything had changed all at once. For Sam, this moment was much less complicated; it was getting to see the dreams that kept him afloat in prison in reality, with his own eyes and not within the confines of his imagination. He felt as if there were parts of him turning on again, as if maybe, just maybe, he could find not only the treasure, but himself again, find the life that had been taken from him and Nate. Sully, on the other-hand, was more bothered with the fact that there was snow on the ground, and a part of him can’t help but feel that this was a horrible déjà vu, that this was just the beginning of something violent, something that none of them had any business getting involved in; the thought “I’m too old for this shit,” crossing into his thoughts more often then he would like.

 

Sam lets out a wolf whistle as the cabin on the property, the one that would be their home for the extent of their stay in Scotland, came in to view, “Not too shabby.”

 

“Still think we should’ve stayed in a hotel,” Victor remarks, giving Mia, who sits beside him, a sideways glance.

 

Mia rolls her eyes, “If you really need me to explain why staying in a major city with a psychopathic daddy’s boy that has everyone one of us on his kill list, then I think we have bigger problems on our hand than a lack of room service, Sully.”

 

“Hey, I’m not the only one that this feels this way. Nate was just tellin’ me the same thing this morning.”

 

Nate shoots the back of Sully’s head a “what the fuck” glance, “Woah, okay, not at all what I said.” He looks to Mia, “Really, I was just talking about that hotel with the good hot coca, you know the one.”

 

Sam watches all of this with amusement, and for once in his life, says nothing.

 

Sully huffs, “Yeah, and then you proceeded to whine about why we couldn’t just stay there.”

 

“What? I did not whine, alright. If anyone was whining, it was you.”

 

Mia laughs at the pair of them, shaking her head, “Alright, boys, no one’s in trouble here, okay? Tell you what, Nate, I’ll make you the _best_ hot cocoa after we get some groceries, and Sully, I’ll get you a little bell and you can ring it when you want a grilled cheese or something, how about that?”

 

“What if I want a grilled cheese, do I get a little bell too?” Sam finally speaks, sitting up in his chair to lean into the cockpit.

 

Mia glances back for a moment to shoot him a grin, “Nah, you can starve.”

 

***

 

With the plane now docked, the four make their way up towards the property, which sits atop a large expanse of land. The cabin, now looking much larger from their view on ground, was a one story stone ranch of typical Scottish design. The windows of the space had shutters that were painted the same baby blue as the front door, and a line of flower boxes hung below them, though at this time of year, there was no greenery to decorate them, and instead, they were filled with dirtied snow.

 

Nate and Sully lead the pack as Sam and Mia follow closely behind.

 

“How we supposed to get into this place if no ones here?” Sully turns to glance back at Mia, who gives him a reassuring smile.

 

“Relax, Sully. Lucy said the key’d be under the doormat.”

 

At the mention of this name, both Drake brother’s attention is caught. Though, Sam is just confused, while Nate becomes elated.

 

“Holy shit, you mean Lucy Abernathe?” A wide smile finds it’s way on Nate’s face, and he looks between Sully and Mia enthusiastically. “How is she? Jesus, it’s been ages since I last saw her.” “

 

Sully shrugs, “Ah you know old, Luc’. Still stubborn as a goddamn ox.”

 

Nate looks back at Mia before speaking again, the two sharing knowing, amused glances like school children, “You still sweet on her?”

 

Sully scoffs, “I swear to god you two, you better not start up with that nonsense again.”

 

“I wouldn’t call your undying love for Lucy nonsense, Sully,” Mia gives his back a playful shove, and he scoffs again, shaking his head.

 

“Come on, old timer. It’s not too late for you two,” Nate goes to place a hand on Sully’s shoulder, but the elder quickly brushes it off.

 

“Kid, you better quit while your ahead,” Sully’s voice is stern, though Mia and Nate just laugh it off.

“Uh, Feelin’ a bit out of the loop here guys,” Sam looks between the group, sheepishly budding in. He can’t help but feel this pang in chest at the interaction; he had missed so much in Panama. Would he ever be able to catch up?

 

“Yeah, your brother and Mia are idiots,” Sully quips, shaking his head.

 

“Lucy’s a friend of ours. She’s good for finding places to stay that are off the beaten track. You know, when you have to be hidden,” Mia looks to Sam, “And she also happens to be the love of Sully’s life.”

 

Ahead of them, Nate snickers while Sully guffaws, already filling the air with empty threats that do nothing but amuse them further.

 

“Is that so? Well she sounds like a real catch, Victor. Congratulations,” Sam grins, already playing along, and Mia gives him a look of admiration that makes his chest expand.

 

“For the love of god, she’s a happily married lesbian. When are morons going to stop beating this dead horse?”

 

“When it stops being funny,” Mia quips, and Nate, Sam, and her all start to laugh again.

 

***

 

Now inside the house, the four try making themselves at home as best as they could. The space, which clearly hadn’t been lived in for a while, is littered with sheeted furniture, a thick layer of dust coating almost every surface, and it takes the team a while before the cabin finally starts looking less like a mausoleum and more like an actual living space. Sully volunteered to inspect the kitchen, while Nate and Sam hastily offered themselves up for bedroom duty, leaving the living room to Mia. Quickly she begins making the space into their makeshift control center, having taken down a framed picture of the Scottish wilderness to place a map of the cathedral grounds in its place. Various papers and research documents now scatter across the coffee table that had once been covered with outdated National Geographic magazines and a used ashtray. Meanwhile, Sully does his best to wipe down the kitchen surfaces, his false hope for snacks quickly dissipating at the sight of baron cabinets. Still, he opens the fridge, his face visibly falling at its disappointing contents, a jar filled with an unknown liquid being the only thing inside.

 

“Alright, enough housework. We should figure out whose doing who,” Sully calls, his voice booming throughout the house. He comes back into the living room and gives Mia a satisfied nod at her work.

 

“Not bad.”

 

She turns to Sully, “Any luck in the kitchen?”

 

“Not unless you like expired mystery juice.”

 

Nate and Sam then round the corner, the four now gathered together in the living space.

 

“So, I figured we’d split into twos: one team will get supplies and the other will hunker down and take map duty. Any volunteers?” Sully looks around at them, his hands on his hips. Sam and Nate both mentally cross their fingers, pleading for a place on the supply run.

 

Mia shrugs, “Sam and I can take the map, you guys take supplies.”

 

Nate and Sully both seem utterly relieved at this, the younger even letting out a satisfied sigh, but Sam shoots her a glance, obviously disappointed.

 

“Can’t argue with that. Where’d Lucy say the car was?”

 

“In the shed. Keys should be in the ignition,” Mia then immediately goes to the files and begins sorting through them, not looking up to say goodbye, “Pick up some of those chocolate covered biscuits also. None of that plain bullshit you always get.”

 

Sully chuckles, “Yeah, yeah. Any other requests?”

 

“Some Guinness wouldn’t hurt,” she adds, and this the first thing she’d said so far that Sam can actually agree with.

 

“Guinness and chocolate covered biscuits. What a Staple diet,” Sully looks to Nate, gesturing towards the door, “Alright, lets get going, kid. We better leave these two to their research.”

 

Nate looks to Sam, giving him an apologetic pat on the back that Sam quickly shoves off, “Sorry, bud. Maybe next time.”

 

Sam watches with contempt as they then exit the room, and once they’re outside, he immediately turns to Mia.

 

“You know, if you were so keen to chart the damn map, you could’ve just volunteered yourself instead of dragging me into this too.”

 

She laughs, shaking her head at him as she finally looks up from the mess of papers, a folder in hand, “You’re such an idiot, you know that?”

 

“What I do now?”

 

Raising her eyebrows, she turns to him, “You _really_ think I’d volunteer us for _map duty_ on your first night in Scotland?” 

 

He narrows his eyes at her, a knowing spark coming to fill them as the cogs in head begin to turn, “Now that you mention it, no, no I do not. But how are we-“

 

She tosses the folder at him, which he just barely manages to catch, “I finished up the last bit of research last night, but with this not being our first time around, most of it was already done.”

 

He flips through it for a second before tossing it back onto the couch, smiling devilishly at her, “you little minx, you.”

 

She shrugs, “I have my ways. Besides, I figured we could use some relaxation before shit starts to hit the fan. And what better place to have our first legal drink together than a dirty ol’ pub in Scotland?”

 

“Hate to break it to you, but I think we’re way past that, sweetheart.”

 

“Actually, I was only 20 when you…,” she pauses, her eyes softening as her brain wracks for the right words to say.

 

“Went on vacation,” he finishes, flashing her a smirk, and she looks at him gratefully.

 

“Right. So, technically, every time we’d drank together was illegal.”

 

He considers this, nodding his head slightly in thought, “You know, now that you mention it, I seem to have a vague memory of me offering to buy you your first legal beer.”

 

“Yeah, well you’re a little late for that. However, I will accept a belated birthday drink, with the added interest of four shots of tequila.”

 

 The two stare at one another as if they were negotiating for something as serious as their lives. 

 

He counters, “Two shots, and I’ll let you order a fancy cocktail.”

 At this, she smiles. “You got yourself a deal, Drake.”

Sam takes a step towards her, holding out his hand that quickly swallows hers as the two grip onto one another, each looking at the other as if they were the best goddamn thing they’d ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School has been insane this semester, so I'm sorry for the crazy late update, but I hope this makes up for it at least a little! I'm hoping to get the next part of this out sometime later this week (fingers crossed), so expect some drunken antics in the next update :)


	7. Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the wonderful people who read this fic, I’m sorry for the abrupt months long hiatus- existential crisis’ will do that to ya. I know I promised ‘drunken antics’ but thanks to my old pal writer’s block, I literally couldn’t think of any scenario that I liked enough, so instead enjoy this short, fluff-centric chapter that’s been sitting in my word doc since April.

“I thought you said we were going to a pub?”

 

Sam stops in his tracks on the side of the road, hands shoved deep in his pockets as a cigarette dangles lazily from his lips. With Nate and Sully having taken the only car, the two were left to walk, and Mia had led Sam to what he thought would be the nearest pub, but now, standing outside of a similar looking cottage as their own, Sam is stumped.

 

“Patience, young Samuel,” she keeps walking away from him, moving forward towards the cottage, which, from their place at the end of the gravel driveway, appeared to be completely empty.

 

He quickens his pace to catch up with her, his long legs making up for the distance in no time, “How far away is this damn bar anyways? We’ve been walking for like an hour already and this is the first thing we’ve come across.”

 

She shrugs, her tone nonchalant, “I think about 15 miles, give or take.”

 

“FIFTEEN MILES?” Sam stops in his tracks again, mouth dropping open, and he almost looses his cigarette, _almost,_ his right arm shooting out of his pocket to catch it just in the knick of time. “How the hell are we supposed to walk our drunk asses back if I don’t even feel up for that trek sober?”

 

“Jesus, when’d you get so boring?” She turns around to face him, but continues walking backwards towards the cabin, a smile spread wide across her face. “Relax, Sam. Just have a little faith in me, yeah?”

 

He groans, shaking his head as his body involuntarily starts to follow her again, and she finally turns back around, satisfied.

 

“See, that wasn’t so hard now was it?”

 

“Don’t push it.”

 

The pair approaches the front of the cabin, Mia confidently striding towards the front door, while Sam hangs back a few feet, his eyes darting around cautiously for any sign of life. But, he quickly realizes they were utterly alone here and he can feel the tension in his shoulders begin to ease as he brings his gaze back to Mia, who bends over to pull up the corner of the worn, half-frozen welcome mat. Sam watches her curiously as she gets up from the ground, turning to him with a proud grin on her face, a small silver key in hand

 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” He muses, taking the last drag of his cigarette before crushing it into the gravel with his boots.

 

“Maybe,” her tone is playful as she turns from him and without explanation, begins heading to the back of the house. Sam groans at this, throwing his head back like a child who just wants to go home.

 

“Christ almighty, where are we going now?” He whines, helplessly watching as she disappears behind the house.

 

But she doesn’t answer, and Sam is again forced to blindly follow her, much to his dismay. Still, he can’t help but feel a pang of anticipation, as much as Mia’s elusive nature was annoying him,

 

he curses to himself as he rounds the back corner of the house. He finds Mia leaning against a door of a small shed, arms crossed smugly against her chest.

 

“You done playing games?” He stops several feet from her, shoving his hands back into his pockets.

 

“Not even close,” she gives him a wink and moves towards the padlock on the shed, inserting the key and turning it with ease. The lock comes loose with a satisfying click and Mia slides it out from the door, turning to face Sam now as her body blocks the entrance.

 

She puts on her best poker face, “Close your eyes.”

 

“What?” His face scrunches up, an exasperated laugh escaping his lips.

 

“You heard me. Close your eyes,” her expression is unwavering.

 

He searches over her features for an answer, but comes up blank, furrowing his eyebrows as she stares back at him confidently. He didn’t know if she was trying to turn him on on purpose, but either way, it was certainly doing the trick.

 

He shuffles uneasily on his feet as he gulps, as if he could swallow down the feelings she’d stirred in him, “Is this some sort of kink thing?”

 

“What? No, you idiot,” her composure falls, head shaking lightly as a smile now takes over her face, “Just do it, okay? I promise it’ll be worth it.”

 

He lets out a deep sigh, raising his eyebrows as if to say “really’?

 

“Come on, pleaseeeee,” she drags out her words, her tone dripping with sweetness as her lips form themselves into a pout, “For me?”

 

Sam’s chest constricts; he’d forgotten about that, the way she could wrap him around her finger with such little effort, how her doe-eyed charm always managed to melt the walls of ice within him into pools of affection that threatened to drown him if he wasn’t careful. Staring at her now, he realizes he’d do anything that she asked and this scares the living hell out of him. “God help me,” he lets out a breath of defeat to himself before closing his eyes, keeping them shut, “I swear to god if you-“

 

But before he could finish his half-hearted threat, a snowball hits Sam directly in the face, stunning him silent. His eyes snap open to see Mia barreled over in laughter.

 

“I’m sorry, I-I couldn’t help myself,” her words come out in disjointed bursts as she takes in the sight of him, laughing, the snow still clinging to his features and only making his stern expression that much more amusing.

 

“Couldn’t help yourself, huh?” He starts laughing now too, hastily making snowballs that he does his best to hurl at her, several failing to meet their mark and instead crashing against the shed.

 

She doesn’t retaliate, or really, she can’t, as her laughter keeps her from doing anything but covering her face with her arms.

 

After dozens of snowballs have been thrown, Sam relents, smiling satisfied at her crumpled over figure. She stays in this position for several moments, awaiting a blow that never comes, before bringing herself up to stand, keeping her hands out in front of her as if she were calming down a rabid animal. When she looks back up at him, cheeks red from the cold, shallow laughs still raking her figure, he can’t help feel this melancholic ache in his chest; it really was the little things you missed the most. Moments like these, seemingly small and insignificant, but now, after having faced the realization that there would be no more happy memories for him besides what he’d acquired before Panama, this moment becomes all the more profound, all the more important.

 

“Okay, okay. You got me. Truce?” Mia sheepishly brings her hands down, a shit eating grin still painting her features.

 

He points a finger at her, aping a parental like stance of disapproval, “You’re on thin ice, missy. First you trick me into walking out into the middle of goddamn nowhere and then you take advantage of my trust?”

 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” she rolls her eyes, waving a hand dismissively at him, “There actually is something in the shed I want to show you, though.”

 

“Yeah, no thanks. I think I’m good.”

 

She scoffs, “Trust me; you’re gonna wanna see this.”

 

“What, after that stunt you just pulled? Nuh-uh sister, ain’t gonna happen.”

 

She stares at him, her playful expression slowly transforming into that deadly pout, and instinctively, he takes a step back from her, as if to step out of her orbit and into a safe distance where her charm could have no affect on him. But, he should’ve known that was no use.

 

 

He shakes his head adamantly, “No no no, don’t even try it, sweetheart.”

 

“Sammy, come on, pleeeeease?” This time, she clasps her hands out in front of her, making her look all the more innocent.

 

He tries to be stern, looking at her as if she wasn’t pulling at his heart strings with the force of a bulldozer, “Mia, come on, knock it out already.”

 

But she doesn’t. She keeps staring at him, hands clasped, lips pouted, her brown eyes seeming to enlarge two times their normal size.

 

He breathes a sigh of indignation, rubbing at the tension that’s gathered between his eyebrows, “Just get it over with already.”

 

“I can’t until you close your eyes,” she snaps out of her pout, giving him a wry smile.

 

He lets a breath out of his nose, “Yeah, not falling for that one again.”

 

He goes to take a step towards her, as if to move past her and into the shed, but she quickly darts her body in front of the doors, giving him a satisfied smile.

 

“Woah there, tiger. Rules are rules, and the rules are you can’t get in unless those eyes of yours are closed. Capiche?”

 

He can’t help but smile back at her, despite his growing sensation of annoyance, ”Enough with the dramatics David Copperfield, I’m freezing my ass off here.”

 

She thinks for a moment, “What if I cover your eyes with my hands? That way I wont be able to do anything.”

 

He looks her up and down, “Pfft, can you even reach?”

 

“Fuck you, yes I can reach,” she gives his arm a playful punch, “What do you say?”

 

He squints his eyes at her, searching her face for any signs of deception, “Ugh, fine. But I swear to god if you try anything-“

 

“Yeah, yeah. I’m so scared,” her tone drips with sarcasm as she opens one door of the shed slightly before coming to stand behind Sam. Bringing her hands up, she moves them to cup each one of his eyes, and he flinches slightly from the feel of her cold skin against his own.

 

“Alright, now don’t open them until I tell you, okay?”

 

He hums in agreement as the two awkwardly shuffle into the shed. Once inside, Mia removes her hands from Sam’s face and steps out from behind him, coming to stand at his side.

 

“Okay, open.”

 

The first thing Sam sees is a motorbike, one not far off from the model he’d ride as a kid, and the wave of emotion that overcomes him is enough to make his eyes well up. He’s stunned silent, feeling as if a bolt of electricity had just jolted through him, every nerve ending in his body suddenly pumping with life, staring at the bike as if it were the face of God itself. He approaches it, carefully, running his hand across the worn leather of the seat, eyes locked onto the metal frame in complete rapture.

 

She knew he’d be happy, but seeing him like this was something else entirely. He wasn’t one to really show his emotions to their full extent, only ever giving small, carefully selected pieces of them, but Sam was too taken off guard to even think about playing it cool, and looking at him now she felt as if she were witnessing a rare phenomenon, a split second view into the impenetrable insides of a man she was always so raptured by, and she finds herself wishing she could just freeze this moment and live inside of it forever.

 

Mia breaks the silence, her voice soft, not wanting to jar him out of his moment, “I know its kind of impractical weather for it but…“

 

He looks up at her now, his face practically glowing, hazel eyes filled with something she’d couldn’t quite put her fingers on, “Its fucking perfect,” and without hesitation he takes her into his arms, gripping onto her with his full strength to spin her around.

 

She laughs, helpless with her arms pinned down beneath his ironclad grip. When he finally sets her back down, he doesn’t let go though, only situates his grasp to sit at her waist, pulling her close to him. This takes her aback, the sudden intimacy of the moment stunning her, his body heat seeming to radiate from his clothes like a furnace that threatens to melt her.

 

“Thank you” he breathes this into her ear, his voice the softest she’s ever heard, and she can swear it almost broke, as if it was taking everything in him not to cry.

 

“You’re welcome, Sammy,” she smiles, finally allowing herself to relax into his touch. But he quickly breaks off the contact, clearing his throat and stepping away awkwardly, his hand shoving themselves into his pockets as he looks anywhere in the room but at her, and Mia becomes painfully aware of the sudden absence of heat, her body begging her to finds its way back into his grasp.

 

“So, what do you say we get this thing on the road?” Approaching the bike, he brings his leg over one side, kicking up the kick stand to straddle it, his hands holding onto the grips, flicking his wrists back as if he were accelerating.

 

“You sure you still know how to drive,” She gives him a wry smile, passing him the keys as she walks to the back of the bike to take her seat.

 

“Please, I could do this in my sleep,” he places the keys in the ignition and turns, the engine revving to life with a satisfying purr. Sam’s eyes close at this, a satisfied grin spread across his face as he revs the engine playfully, relishing in the sound.

 

“Goddamn, I’ve missed that,” he says this more to himself, turning his head a bit to glance back at Mia. He gives her a wink, “You hold on tight, alright.”

 

She places her arms around his waist, giving him a squeeze. “We’re gonna freeze our asses off aren’t we?”

 

Sam chuckles, revving the engine again for good measure, “Oh, most definitely.”

And without a second warning, Sam pulls back on the throttle, sending them flying out into the frigid Scotland air.


End file.
